


The Red Herring Husband

by justbygrace



Series: Movie 'Verse [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My twist on ‘The Decoy Bride’. Definitely not to be taken seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> edited by the utterly fantastic sorrywhatever

John Noble shook his head as he watched the familiar scenery pass outside of the bus windows. He'd really thought he was going to be able to make it this last time, the job had seemed like a sure thing, but it had ended like everything else. Actually he had left the job this last time, writing advertising jingles was mind-numbingly boring work - how anyone could consider the finer points of toasters day in and day out was beyond him. Also it didn't help that he'd been dumped. Again. If he was keeping track - which he was most definitely not - it would make number five. And so here he was, headed home like a dog with its tail between his legs.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he almost didn't hear the driver's throaty grunt of "Gallifrey" and by the time he had lifted his head and was trying to stand up, the driver had already shifted out of park, prepared to hit the road again.

"No, stop! This is my stop! Wait, don't go!" John shouted, attempting to grab his various bundles and cases and make his way up the aisle, ignoring the shocked looks of his traveling companions.

The driver was ill-pleased at having to get out and open the undercarriage and he pulled out of the lot with a churn of gravel that left John coughing. Sighing, he picked up his suitcases, shouldered his pack, and turned towards the far side of town.

Gallifrey was a town that had been more or less forgotten by everyone and most of the locals preferred it that way. Its two claims to fame were fish and the one-hit wonder television show: Gallifrey Falls. The show had procured very little revenue for the town, though the spots where it had been filmed were still preserved as well as if the film crew had just stepped away for a smoke break. 

John waved to the few people he saw as he trudged up the sidewalk. He wasn't the slightest bit interested in explaining why he was back again and he just smiled and kept walking when they tried to motion him closer. The dog metaphor came back to him and he attempted a few experimental woofs to try out his new role, but only managed to upset some stray cats.

By the time he pushed open the rusty gate below a sigh that read 'TARDIS Bed & Breakfast,' he was more than ready to be on his way back out of town.

"John!" The voice that shouted his name emanated from an upstairs window of the blue-ish building that sat down a small gravel path. 

He winced and looked up, smiling at the red-head who was peering out at him. "Hello, Donna."

"You didn't tell me you'd be back today! Hold on, I'll be right down." Her head disappeared from view.

John readjusted his grip on his cases and headed up the path. It was obvious the building had fallen into even worse disrepair than it had the last time he'd been home. He tried to ignore the pang of guilt that went through him. He hadn't really meant to abandon his sister to run the B&B on her own (their parents had died when they were both small), but the town had a suffocating effect on him and he'd spent more time out of it than in once he'd reached his eighteenth birthday - ten years prior.

Donna's run out of the house to fling her arms around his neck belied his fears that she felt at all abandoned.

"It is so good to see you again!" she gushed, kissing his cheek and relieving him of one of his suitcases all at once. "How did things go in New York?"

"Oh absolutely peachy, Donna." He rolled his eyes. "That's why I'm back again."

"That bad, huh?" she asked, ignoring his sarcasm. 

"Worse." He followed her into the main part of the house, his eyes taking in the familiar faded decorations and peeling paint. His conscious berated him again; this place really did take two people to maintain. 

"What about, oh, what was her name? The one you wrote about? Reinelle? Rainy?" Donna dumped his cases in the corner and moved to the stove to put the kettle on.

John similarly deposited his luggage and dropped into the rocking chair. "Reinette," he said gloomily. 

"Yeah, such a weird name. Sounds like a kind of car." She pulled open the cupboard and poked at some boxes. "Earl Gray still okay for you?"

"Fine." He steepled his fingers and studied the ceiling. There was a grayish cast to it and it needed a good coat of paint. "Not a car. A woman. A beautiful, accomplished woman who could get the attention of any man she wanted and they would come running. Like in the movies when a woman holds out her cigarette and men jump to light it for her."

"Sounds like code for has a lot of lovers," Donna snorted.

He let out a deep sigh. "Three, to be exact. A modern mistress of a royal court."

"Oh John, I'm so sorry." Donna walked over to him and squeezed his shoulder. "She didn't deserve you."

"Or I didn't deserve her," he retorted. "At some point it becomes less of people deserving people and more that there's something wrong with me."

Donna swatted the back of his head. "Don't be talking that way. The only thing wrong with you is that you mope too much. You're giving yourself premature wrinkles."

He let out a startled yelp and leaped out of the chair towards the open bathroom door, inspecting his face in the mirror. Donna's laughter brought him dragging back out and glaring at her.

"Not funny," he muttered, flopping back in the chair and setting it rocking. 

"Little bit funny," she chuckled, lifting the whistling teapot off the stove and pouring the hot water into their respective mugs.

"I think it's because I'm not ginger. I don't think it's fair that you're ginger and I'm not. There is really no justice in the world. I'm fated to have this stupid brown hair all my life." He accepted his mug and wrapped his fingers around it, warming them from the chill in the room; he definitely needed to check out the cracks around the doors and windows too.

“Red hair isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Donna told him. "And eventually you'll find someone who will love you just the way you are."

John narrowed his eyes at her. "You've been watching too many sappy romantic movies again, you sound like a fortune cookie."

She shrugged and grabbed the remote to flip on the telly in the corner. "Not a bad way to pass the time when your brother is off cavorting with women named after cars."

"I wasn't...she wasn't..." John sighed. "I just want to be with someone, you know? So I'm not perpetually alone."

"Mmhmm." Donna's gaze was fixed on the screen and it took John a second to focus in on her expression and when he did, he wanted to kick himself. 

"Donna, I'm sorry. Rude and not ginger, that's what I am, you know. I open my mouth and just stick my foot right in. A la Foot, that's what I eat. Foot Roast, Foot Soup, Foot Casserole..." he cut off when she smacked him.

"Shut up." But there was no malice in her words and he sank back into the rocking chair.

He didn't know what he had done to deserve a sister as loyal and loving as his, but it was definitely the best thing that had happened to him. He turned back towards the screen, but his mind stayed on his sister.

She had been engaged to be married at nineteen: a beautiful, glowing young woman, over-the-moon for her fiancé . Her fiancé was a quiet, gentle young man named Lee McAvoy who had been absolutely smitten. The two had grown up together and been in love since primary school. Their marriage was a joyously anticipated event and then Lee's fishing boat had overturned in the sea on the eve of their wedding. Donna had hung up her gown and gone to work in the Bed & Breakfast, setting herself fully towards running the establishment and trying to raise her wily little brother. 

"Oi," Donna poked his arm. "Are you even seeing this?"

"Hmm?" He blinked at the telly. "Seeing what?"

"Jack Harkness is finally getting married. And to that silly writer for Gallifrey Falls: Rose Tyler," Donna explained. "Can you believe that ladies man is finally tying the knot?"

John stared at the screen, watching a bunch of reporters cluster around the steps of what looked like a hotel. "What are they doing?"

"Waiting for her to come out. Now hush, I want to see her."

"I'm sure she looks the same as she did when she was here, didn't you see her then?" John asked. He'd been away when Gallifrey Falls had been filmed, but Donna had kept him apprised of every detail.

"No, she was very mysterious. I've hardly caught even a glimpse. Now be quiet." She gestured impatiently.

John shrugged and returned his attention to the movement on the screen. The door of the hotel opened and a woman in white complete with a veil rushed down the steps, through the crowd, and into a waiting limo. 

He snorted. "Looked like a nice woman, she did."

"You really are rude and not ginger." Donna rolled her eyes. "Wait..."

John stared as the reporters showed the doors of the hotel opening and another woman in white with a veil rushing out and then another and then another.

"Guess they don't want people figuring out her identity," he observed and then squawked when Donna smacked him upside the head.

"I swear I got all the brains in this family," Donna groused. "Now go change into something that doesn't make you look like a twat. I've got some things that need to be done and you can't do it in a pin-striped suit and a trenchcoat." 

"Hey now! Don't insult the coat! I'll have you know this is a genuine Janis Joplin coat. Wonderful workmanship, you don't see this sort of thing every day." He patted the sides of his coat fondly.

"And thank God for that," she said, picking up his cup and dropping both mugs in the sink. "Now, I mean it, I've got a list!"

"I'm going, I'm going." John grabbed his bags and started from the room. "She didn't mean it."

"Please tell me you are not speaking to your coat, John Theta Noble!" Donna hollered after him.

"I've missed you too, Donna," he called over his shoulder as he started up the narrow stairs to the family's side of the house.

"Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up so you can make yourself useful while you're here cause who knows when you'll get the urge to be off again," her voice echoed up the stairs behind him.

He smiled as he pushed up the door to his childhood bedroom. His love for Gallifrey wasn't over-flowing, but it was good to be home.


	2. Chapter 2

When John arose the next morning he dressed in a more conservative outfit of jeans and a button down but he kept the coat handy. The gusts of wind that were fluttering the curtains spoke of Autumn despite the calendar's declaration that it was still August. 

Donna kept him busy with her list for the majority of the day doing everything from repainting the porch to winterizing the windows and he supplemented the list with projects of his own. Word that he was in town had quickly spread, which was no surprise, and the yard saw a steady stream of visitors, eager to say hello and ask how he was. 

All of the residents of Gallifrey had lived there their entire lives and most of them were pushing fifty. He really did love them, despite how nosy they were about his business. They all meant well and each of them had helped to raise him and Donna after their parents had been killed, pitching in to help with meals, covering expenses, and making sure that TARDIS wasn't foreclosed upon. 

He was less pleased when Gwen Cooper came by around two, arm-in-arm with Rhys Williams. He'd almost married Gwen back in the day and, though he didn't really still carry a torch for her, he also didn't like that she had been able to find a husband - as evidenced by the glowing gold band on her left hand - and he was still depressingly single. 

After Gwen and Rhys left, Donna came out with two mugs of tea and a consoling pat to his shoulder. 

"She's annoying anyway, always sticking her nose where it doesn't belong and you know she settled for Rhys. She'll stray first chance she gets, mark my words," Donna said sagely, settling on the low stone wall that bordered their property.

"Donna!" John exclaimed.

"Well, it's true." Donna would not be moved.

"True or not, it's rude. And here I thought I was the rude one." John shook his head and returned his attentions towards fixing the cracked glass on the lampost.

"You are," Donna began, but before she could get further, a large car rolled to a halt at the gate and a man with a broad forehead and parted brown hair stuck his head out of the window.

"Is this the TARDIS Bed & Breakfast?" he asked with the same sort of tone that most people adopt when inquiring after the distinct smell of skunk in one's living room.

John glared at him, opening his mouth to demand to know what he could possibly want, but Donna beat him to it.

"Excuse you?" She was half turned towards the car and John could practically see her hackles rising. "And who are you?"

"Adam Mitchell, publicist for Gallifrey Falls." There was a slight hitch in the man's words as if he wasn't certain of his own veracity.

"Alright Mister Adam Mitchell, publicist," Donna said with an emphasis on the last word. "You should perhaps turn on your own bloody show from time to time. This is TARDIS, as a matter of fact."

"Really? This dump?" The man wrinkled his nose, but before Donna or John could gather their outrage, he withdrew his head and opened the door. "Suppose it will have to do."

"Do?" John found his voice at last. "Do for what? With your attitude, you can do somewhere else."

"Would if I could, but I can't," Adam said shortly. "The boss has spoken."

"And who is your boss, exactly?" John demanded, closing the glass cutter he was using and stowing it in his pocket. The man might be rude, but waving a knife in his face might cause him undue concern.

"Doesn't matter. The point is that there will be a promo for Gallifrey Falls being shot here and as a result there will be an influx of people and we will need to use every room of this...inn," Adam snorted indelicately at the word.

"You can't just come barging in...." John began but Donna waved her hand at him to get him to shut up and began speaking, her voice quite a bit different.

"Just how many people are we talking?" 

"Oh, quite a few. Enough to fill every room, I'd suppose," Adam said, beckoning at someone in the car.

The someone in the car turned out to be three someone's, a woman with blonde hair piled on her head, a man in a very nice suit, and man with curly black hair. All of them were carrying clipboards and, as they flanked Adam, John swore he could hear their heels click.

"Right then. I'm going to need electricians, the company checkbook, a hundred gallons of paint, stone masons, a solid water supply, a good WiFi connection, decorators - the ones we used for the Skaro Affair, a circus tent, a solid construction crew and," Adam paused and took a breath, "a cappuccino or possibly eight."

John once more opened his mouth to protest the man's heavy-handed manner towards the TARDIS, but before he could collect his thoughts Donna darted out two fingers and pinched his arm in warning. Letting out a squeak of outrage, John glared at his sister who shot him a would-you-shut-up look in return.

"So, can I presume you'll be paying up front for all of this?" Donna asked the man in an oily sort of voice that John hadn't heard since the days of creditors banging down the doors. He really needed to take a look at the account books while he was here if Donna was opening the TARDIS' doors after the way the man had just spoken to them.

"Yes, yes," Adam waved a dismissive hand. "Shaun, see to it." 

One of the men with Adam darted forward, removing a slim checkbook and uncapping a pen, holding it expectantly over the paper. "And how much for, ma'am?"

Donna opened her mouth to suggest a number, but Adam spoke before she had a chance to. "Let's start with 20,000 pounds and go from there. If it goes past that, Shaun will write another check." Barely glancing at Shaun or Donna - the latter of whom was barely maintaining a poker face, Adam strode forward, boldly pushing open the front door and disappearing inside.

John stared between the vanishing publicist and Shaun, who was signing over 20,000 pounds to Donna without batting an eyelid. John wasn't totally sure about a promo for a show that had been canceled over three years ago and he was even less sure about having the TARDIS turned inside out for it, but judging by the look in Donna's eye, he perhaps needed to keep his mouth shut until he learned more.

No sooner had Shaun snapped the book closed and darted after Adam then John cleared his throat, giving his sister a pointed look which she was pointedly ignoring.

"Something you want to tell me?" he asked when it became evident that Donna's attention was going to stay firmly on the withering flowerbeds.

"An advertising promo, John! Can you imagine how much money that will bring in?" She whirled on him so suddenly he felt compelled to take a step backwards. "Thousands, hundreds of thousands of pounds. And then I can go, explore and adventure and travel. Hike the Alps, see the Great Pyramids, and get lost in the Sahara."

"Getting lost in a giant desert sounds a bit daft," John began, but shut his mouth at the sparks that shot towards him.

"You don't understand! You have traveled all over! France and America and Spain and Italy! Meanwhile I've been stuck here, tending the TARDIS alone while you've been off gallivanting. It's my turn to do something. It's my turn to go out there and have an adventure and see the world and get a picture taken with a camel." Donna sat down on the porch swing with a dejected sigh.

"You really have a thing for Egypt," he observed and then held up his hands when she would have continued ranting at him. "Donna, I get it. I haven't been fair to you, going off and having adventures and leaving you here to take care of the TARDIS. I'm sorry that I've been so wrapped up in my own world." He paused at her snort and looked injured.

She waved her hands for him to continue. 

"I just think he looks a bit fishy, don't you think?" he asked with an experimental sniff in the direction of the departed Adam. "Smells it too."

"You're smelling Grandpa Wilf's catch," Donna said dryly, motioning towards where the old man (he wasn't actually their grandfather, but everyone in town called him that) was trundling his wares up the street to the general store. "I'm not saying we make Adam an honorary family member, but if he wants to spend his money (or his company's money) on fixing up the TARDIS? Well, we should definitely let him. I don't know if you've noticed, but we haven't had many guests through here recently."

"You're right, of course," John agreed, moving over to join her on the swing. "But a promo? For a show that has been dead for years? You can't tell me that's not more fishy than a basket of fishes."

"Please stop using fish as a descriptive word, you're making me nauseous." At his agreeable nod, she continued, "I don't care if they're doing an advertising campaign for Henry VIII! We just got a check for 20,000 pounds and the promise of more. We only need to accommodate them and play along. They won't be around forever."

"Alright!" John threw up his hands. "But if they turn out to be a cover for an undercover smuggling operation, I maintain the rights to saying I told you so."

"Fair enough," she conceded. "I mean, after all, how bad can it be?"


	3. Chapter 3

Being engaged to marry the man whose face leered from the cover of all the trendy gossip magazines was not at all where Rose Tyler saw her life ending up when she was young. She had been born and raised on the estates, learning to get by on a little less than others, and when she won a scholarship for university, it had been considered to be something of a fluke.

Her degree behind her, she landed a job as a staff writer and then the lead writer on a backwoods show called Gallifrey Falls. It was not a show that was going to win awards, though it was popular with the locals and everyone who wanted to make believe they knew more about shows than the average human. It was canceled after two seasons (and it was a minor miracle it had survived that long, since it came in dead last behind reruns of procedural dramas and How To Snake Your Drains), leaving her more or less unemployed while she fiddled with words that would maybe be considered filmable someday.

Somewhere along the way she had crossed paths with Jack Harkness - the cross-continental actor whose face beamed at people from London and New York billboards alike. How she'd won his devotion was something she tried not to question - his sexual exploits with everyone and anyone were well-publicized, but he swore that she was the one to whom he would stay true. So far she was relatively certain that he'd kept his promise, but she didn't look too hard at his credit card charges or missed calls either.

Currently she was in a private car with her soon-to-be husband heading for an unknown destination that would hopefully afford them with some privacy. They were supposed to have been married the previous weekend, but it had been foiled by Cassandra O'Brien, the leach who passed herself off as a photographer whose shots of Jack had graced more covers of magazines than anyone else's. Jack had apparently come up with a plan of someplace to go where they could be married in peace, though he wouldn't tell her where, promising her only that she would absolutely love it.

"Rosie?" Jack's voice broke into her thoughts.

"Hmm?" She turned to smile up at him, marveling as always at his Apollo-esque charm.

"Everything okay?" he asked solicitously.

"Yeah, 'course. I was just thinking about how lucky I am to be marrying you," she told him, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"Oh now, I'm the lucky one. With such a gorgeous woman on my arm, I'm guaranteed to be the envy of all." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. "The spires of that town, shrouded by the distant mist, rose up to meet the traveler as if from a dream."

"What?" Rose pulled back to look up at him. "Is that from the new script?"

"No!" He looked surprised and then motioned for the drivers to lower the tinted windows. "It's from your masterpiece."

"My what?" Rose raised an eyebrow at him and then turned to look out the window.

One look at the wooden barns and peeling billboards and she knew exactly where she was. She'd seen the posters and the show, same as the other fifteen hundred people.

"Gallifrey?" she asked, dread curling through her belly. "We're getting married in Gallifrey?"

"Of course! Once I remembered it, I couldn't believe it took me so long! It's the perfect place, out of the way, and no one will think to look for us out here." Jack leaned back in his seat with a contented smile

"I should say not," she muttered, returning her gaze to the rapidly approaching town.

She hadn't actually made it to Gallifrey before, technically she was supposed to have, but it had never fit into her schedule. Instead she had relied on Wikipedia, Google, and the film crew to fill in the gaps. The way she had written the show had never really lent itself towards a need for her to visit the out-of-the-way place and visiting now wasn't anywhere near the top of her priority list. When she had thought of private places to get married she had pictured island resorts and castle ruins, not a backwoods town with a distinct fishy odor.

"Do you love it?" Jack pressed up behind her to see out the windows, letting out a happy sigh at the sight. "I thought you'd love it. I'm so excited to see the town as you wrote about it."

"Are you?" she asked with a study of nonchalance and then she remembered his question. "I do love it."

She turned to kiss him fully and they remained connected until the car rolled to a halt and Adam, their grumpy publicist, cleared his throat.

"Excuse me. If you two lovebirds don't mind exiting the vehicle, it seems we have arrived, though God only knows why."

"Don't insult Gallifrey," Jack exclaimed, reaching over Rose to open the car door. "It's the most perfect town I've ever laid eyes on."

"You haven't laid eyes on it," Adam said under his breath. "If you'll come this way, you can see the famous TARDIS B&B."

Jack clapped his hands and started up the path at once, but Rose hung back, eyeing the blue building nervously. TARDIS had been the setting for several of the hauntings that had taken place on the show and she had painted it as a romantic, cozy getaway. She was not at all sure that she wanted to see what it really looked like.

"Should we really, do you think?" she asked Adam in an undertone.

"Oh yes," Adam said with a devious smile. "You really should.”

Rose had never liked Adam, even in the best of times, and right now she didn't trust him farther than she could throw him (which on a good day would probably be as far as the duck pond she could spot in the far corner of the yard). Following Jack slowly up the path, Rose shifted her gaze constantly, pleased to note that there appeared to be no obvious pitfalls - manmade or otherwise - nor ghosts or evil spirits at the windows or anything else that might suggest the dark atmosphere that the show exuded. Not that she really expected such a thing, but with Adam one never quite knew. And if Jack wanted the show recreated, Rose would bet a tenner that Adam would recreate the damn show down to the last detail - the man was oddly attached to her celebrity boyfriend...fiancé.

The woman who opened the door had red hair that caught the dying rays of sunlight and eyes that suggested that anything that may desire to attack this house ought to think twice. Rose felt safer just seeing the woman. There initially appeared to be no one else in the house besides Ianto, Shaun, and Lynda, of course, those three were attached to Adam's hips, but there was a flash of something long and tan that disappeared up the back stairs before Rose could get a good look at it. She would have been more concerned, but she had just met Donna Noble, the apparent proprietor of the TARDIS.

The TARDIS Bed & Breakfast was both more and less charming than Rose had always pictured it when she wrote. It had a certain rustic charm that held true to the script - brass bedsteads and bathtubs - but there was an elegance about it that suggested someone had recently sunk a large sum of money into its upkeep. Rose wondered what part of her it was keeping her from relaxing and enjoying her surroundings, after all, Jack looked like a kid in a candy shop. She had always known that he enjoyed Gallifrey Falls, but hadn't previously been aware of the level of his knowledge.

Rose kept up a smile and a steady stream of chatter that intermingled with Jack's overflowing joy while they were given the grand tour, but inside all she wanted was to retire to her room and wonder what had happened to her life that she was planning to get married on the set of a long-forgotten television show. Periodically she glanced at Jack to reassure herself that he had grown no less handsome and to remind herself of the eight million females who would trade places with her in a minute - claw-footed bathtubs, the possibility of a ghost from the past showing up at any moment, and what appeared to be a distinct lack of indoor heating notwithstanding.


	4. Chapter 4

Rose woke early the following morning, mostly because her exposed nose was informing her that her hunch about no indoor plumbing was absolutely correct. She tried to burrow further under the ancient quilts, but her movements rustled the blankets and let in a draft of chilly air upon her toes. Sitting up, she drew the quilts around her shoulders and cursed all the reasons why it was considered bad luck to sleep with one's fiancé the night before your wedding day.

The thought reminded her that she was indeed supposed to be marrying the legendary Jack Harkness in just a few hours of time and she stared unseeingly at the lace curtains at the window while she considered the thought further. She did like the man, loved him even, but no matter how many times she had slept with him, it hadn't really escalated beyond the love one feels for a celebrity that one has admired from afar and suddenly has the opportunity to perform a Broadway show with. She rolled her eyes at the metaphor, but it fit the current freeze settling in her brain. Maybe she'd have to use the idea for her new screenplay.

Rose glared at the suitcase that held her laptop and its multitudes of barely started documents. Nothing she tried was working, not taking a break from work (her last one lasted a full three months), not exercise, changing her diet, getting more sleep, or having sex on a regular basis - all things that were supposedly proven to work on writer's block. Even on the rare times when she had sat down with no distractions and a full cup of tea, no words had flown from her fingers. It didn't change the enthusiasm with which Jack applauded her efforts, however, and Rose smiled at the thought. That was one thing she really did appreciate about him.

Forcing herself to abandon her nest of quilts, Rose hopped from one foot to another while she rooted through her suitcase for something suitably warm and comfortable - something that befitted a bride on her wedding day. As she dressed, she worked very hard to focus on the strangeness of the weather, of how Ianto, Shaun, and Lynda would primp her for the day, of where, exactly, they were going to hold the ceremony - anything that wasn't the fact that her beloved mum wouldn't be here to celebrate with her.

Jackie Tyler had succumbed to a fight with breast cancer shortly after Rose had graduated from university. Though it had been nearly five years, Rose still felt the loss keenly every day. She wasn't sure how Jackie would have felt about Jack, but she knew her loyal and loving mother would have celebrated this day with every fiber of her being.

Finally dressed, Rose set out to find a bathroom and enjoyed a frigid splash of water on her face and teeth at the sink. Adam's smirking face appeared around the corner as she exited the loo to inform her that Jack and Shaun had gone off on their morning run. Rose nodded tightly and descended the stairs to the, thankfully, warm and cheerful kitchen.

"Morning!" Donna greeted from where she sat flipping through a newspaper and enjoying a steaming cup of tea and a plate of something that smelled delicious. "Breakfast?"

Rose hummed in agreement. Despite the brisk chill of air and water, she still had not woken to the point where conversing with her fellow humans was a good life choice. Pouring herself a mug of tea and helping herself to food fresh from the stove, she sat down next to Donna and was gratified when the other woman pushed over part of the paper to share.

The two spent a pleasant thirty minutes thusly until Donna finally pushed back her chair and let out a great sigh of contentment. Rose followed suit and smiled at her breakfast companion.

"Thanks for breakfast," she said.

"Psh, I didn't do that," Donna laughed. "My brother can make a mean fry up and he's the genius behind the food around here. Just don't tell him I said that, his head is big enough."

"Brother?" Rose questioned.

She had not seen hide nor hair of a brother the previous evening during dinner (a wonderful and filling meal) or afterwards when the group sat around the uncomfortable parlor and made small talk. She pictured a mentally unstable man who was let out only to cook food and was too dangerous to be allowed to freely roam the house with guests. The idea pleased her and she made a note to write it down in a new document at her earliest possible convenience.

"Oh yes, he's around somewhere." Donna waved her hand dismissively. "Probably lurking about in dark corners avoiding human contact. He's very friendly, really, but he sometimes likes to pretend he's a hermit."

Rose's mental picture immediately changed to one of a young boy with pale skin and black eyes who was allergic to daylight. She wondered if he preferred a diet of human blood and wondered how to delicately bring that up.

"You've got a nice place here. Just you and him then?" she asked. Donna looked normal enough, but perhaps there was a coven around here somewhere. That would definitely inject some fresh blood into Gallifrey Falls - pun definitely intended.

"Yes, our parents died in a boating accident when we were young," Donna shared.

Rose extended her sympathies, divulging her own mother's death and the two women shared a few moments of conversation about the difficulties of facing the world without a mother's guiding hand, even as an adult. This vein of chat led into others and they continued sharing stories until the chiming of the clock on the wall made them both jump.

"Oh my, is it nine already?" Rose asked in dismay. "My, uh, Jack, should be back already."

Donna looked at her keenly, but merely said, "It's easy to get distracted running around here if you don't know the area. Especially if they headed out too far, they may be wandering around town or have gotten turned around."

"Hmm. Maybe I should go out and look for them," Rose suggested. She didn't especially want to look for Jack and Shaun, but she did want a walk to hopefully clear her head.

"Are you pretty familiar with the town then?" Donna asked.

Rose glanced at her sharply. The ruse of a promo for Gallifrey Falls was still the one they were pretending to the locals, but there was something in Donna's tone that suggested she knew more than she was letting on. But the other woman was smiling benignly and Rose let it go.

"Well enough, I think. I'm not planning to go far."

Donna saw her off at the door with a wave and a smile and Rose was soon traversing the mostly deserted streets. The chilly wind that had accosted her in bed had not given way for the midday sun yet and she was glad that Donna had insisted that she take along her furry jacket.

The town was much smaller and faded than Wikipedia and the show's sets had made it appear. She briefly wondered how many of the buildings had received false fronts because she recognized a few houses here and there, but most of it was completely unfamiliar. Many of the homes looked like they had received a fresh coat of paint or a general wave of upkeep, but the majority of the town looked like it had seen better days.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that when she heard a voice calling someone's name quite loudly, it took her a few moments to pay attention. The speaker was a tall, thin man wearing a long, tan trenchcoat whose perfectly spiky hair was oddly tantalizing. And he was shouting “Donna” at her.

"Not Donna," she responded when it became clear that the fellow wasn't going to stop yelling on his own.

"Ahh, yes, well, I see that now. Only from back there you look different. It's the coat, you see. Fluffy hood and all." The man rubbed the back of his neck as he approached, words still pouring from his mouth. "That's Donna's signature coat, she puts up the hood when she wants to ignore me. I thought, well, the hood was up and I couldn't see your hair. You don't have red hair."

"No, I don't," Rose said, with the sort of smile one gives toddlers with sticky fingers who want a hug.

"Well, that's a relief," he said and heaved a great sigh.

"Excuse me?" She tilted her head and studied him. His eyes were warm and chocolate colored and they looked sane enough, but one couldn't be too careful.

"Er, I meant, well, there's just a lot of gingers around here. Too many, I think. A true infestation of gingers. A gaggle of gingers - I think that's a good name for them. It's becoming a problem." The man looked down and sideways, his hand still compulsively clutching the back of his neck.

"Um, okay." Rose nodded, unsure whether she ought to be encouraging him.

"I'm John, by the way." He stuck his hand out and Rose tentatively allowed his slim fingers to encase hers.

"R-rose." She had been planning to go for a pseudonym, but none had been forthcoming and tripping over her own name didn't exactly make her appear saner than the man.

"Good to meet you, Rose." He practically rolled the syllables of her name around in his mouth as if he was testing them and tasting them. It was an odd thing to witness, she wasn't sure anyone had ever been quite so keen on her name before. "You're here for that promo for Gallifrey Falls?"

"I am, yeah," she agreed, turning so that she was facing up the street again and taking a few tentative steps.

He didn't even blink, simply falling into step beside her. "I saw you, sort of, last night at the TARDIS. That's my B&B, you know. Well, mine and Donna's. I think it's probably equally shared, 50/50, so if we ever got into a major argument we would have to chop it down the middle, bit weird that."

"Uh-huh," Rose said, her mind finally connecting the dots. "You're Donna's brother? The one who cooks?"

"Oh! Um, yes. Did she mention me in regards to the food? I specifically said she shouldn't do that." John looked rather put out.

"Um, okay," Rose shrugged. "Well, she didn't say much."

"Good, good, that's good." He nodded like a marionette. "So! Promo! That's interesting. Strange show that one. Doesn't have much in common with the town itself. Never had a haunting around here, so far as I can tell. Or anyone possessed, though I suppose I could be the one possessing people and not know it. Don't they say you retain some of your consciousness, though, when you're being possessed? I don't have two consciousnesses, so I guess I'm good."

Rose was less sure of his mental stability and chose not to respond.

Undeterred by her silence, he plowed on. "It's a nice town, Gallifrey is. Well, nice enough. Bit of an old population, and by old I mean most everyone is over fifty. Except Gwen and Donna and Rhys and me, of course. But Gwen and Rhys are married now. And Donna's my sister. So, really just me then. Single. On my own. Footloose and fancy free."

"I'm engaged," she blurted out because she was afraid he would be proposing marriage next if she didn't let him know sooner rather than later.

"Yeah, yeah, of course you are. Everyone is. Except me. Ahh well, can't be helped." He took in a deep breath of air and let it out slowly. "So, Gallifrey Falls. I don't like it. It's like the anti-Gallifrey."

"I bet you never even watched it," Rose exclaimed. She had never been given to defending the show before but she had the sudden urge to in the face of such obvious disregard.

He snorted. "It's the only time Gallifrey has appeared in any sort of media; it plays on constant replays all weekend long and at night too. No, you can't call yourself a true Gallifreyan if you hadn't watched every episode and all the behind the scenes and commentaries and probably own it all on DVD too. And whatever else I am, I am a true Gallifreyan."

"Fascinating. Listen, I think I can find my own way from here..." Rose let her sentence drop, hoping he would get the point.

He didn't. "Oh were you lost? I'm so sorry, I didn't ask. Where were you headed?"

"Here." Rose pointed at the building directly in front of them, belatedly realizing that it was a laundromat.

"You don't need a laundry." John shook his head at her lack of knowledge. "We've got a washer and dryer at the TARDIS."

"I like the smell of laundromats," she argued quickly. It wasn't a complete lie, the smell of fresh laundry was appealing.

"Oh, well, I see. I guess I'll be off then." He took several steps backwards and tripped over the edge of the sidewalk, barely catching his balance in time. "I'll see you later then, Rose?"

"Mmhmm, I'm sure," Rose said with a sigh, pushing open the door to the laundromat and wondering what on earth she was going to do to pass the time for the next ten or fifteen minutes until she was certain that John was far away.


	5. Chapter 5

John made his way up Main Street with his coat collar turned up against the chill of the world and his own inability to keep his mouth shut. Rose. Her name was synonymous with Spring and Romance and everything he was bad at -- it was no wonder she wanted nothing to do with him.

She hadn't actually said that in so many words. No, she was much too kind to tell him he had made a complete arse of himself, but it didn't take a Doctor to see that he had scared her away. He had seen women do a number of strange things to avoid him, but announcing that they loved the smell of clean laundry and vanishing inside of a laundromat was a new one and it signified an all time low.

It didn't help that she was simply the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. She made other women -- including his recent brief infatuation with Reinette -- pale in comparison. Her eyes were a golden brown -- like the glass of whiskey he hoped to drown his sorrows in shortly, and her hair was a veritable waterfall of blonde locks. His lifelong obsession with ginger hair suddenly took an abrupt backseat to the countless poems that were springing to his mind about blonde hair.

But all of his soliloquizing about her did not magically wipe away the memory of rambling like an old fool when he had been in her presence. He had a tendency to chatter uncontrollably in the best of circumstances and apparently, though this was a relatively new theory, it grew worse in the face of truly beautiful women- - or a truly beautiful woman; he was certain he'd never be able to find any other that measured up to Rose.

His morose footsteps led him unerringly back to the TARDIS and he paused at the gate to glare at the building and the yard. There were reasons he had been spewing his irritation with the show to Rose and every single one of them were in front of him. Adam Mitchell had been true to his word when he had declared that the TARDIS was going to be receiving a total overhaul. About the only things that were the same were the basic shape and color and those only stayed because that's how it was on the show.

John walked up the path to the house, taking care to kick gravel onto the freshly manicured lawn. As much as he was glad that some of the general upkeep he had been planning to do had been taken care of (and at no expense to him), he wasn't thrilled with the results. He missed the homey feel about the place when the paint was fading and the sign hung crooked and there were wildflowers peeking around the edges of the house.

Donna was pleased because several more checks had come her way and all she'd really had to do was point Adam in the direction of some good people to do the construction. John had stayed out of everyone's way the best he could. He knew if he occupied the same room as Adam for more than five minutes he was going to end up punching him the face, barring him from the property, or attempting to launch him into outer space -- all of which seemed like viable options.

With his mind still running over new ideas of ways to dispose of Adam, John let out a surprised yelp when he pushed open the kitchen door only to find the man in question standing in the middle of the kitchen floor with a shifty look in his eyes. That was usually the expression Adam had, but there was something especially menacing about the way his eyes raked over John as if he was trying to determine his pinky size from across the room.

"Can I help you?" John asked icily.

Adam advanced on him with a greedy look and John groaned, obviously that had been the wrong question. 

"Why yes, yes you can," Adam said, walking in a circle around John while John tried to keep him in sight, resulting in the two of them doing a sort of weird dance.

"Sorry I asked." John tried to back out of the room, but Adam was having none of that.

"I have a proposition for you," Adam began.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. I don't, I'm not, just, no." John threw up his arms in a defensive manner and took another step backwards.

Adam rolled his eyes. "What kind of person do you think I am? No, don't answer that, I'm quite sure I don't care to know. I need you to pretend to be Jack Harkness."

John snorted and turned away. There was the sound of footsteps and he turned to see Shaun, Ianto, and Lynda enter the room and stand waiting politely by the door.

"This is not a joke, however much I wish it was. I need someone to be a red herring husband to foil the media for a bit." Adam's voice betrayed an anxiousness John hadn't yet seen him exhibit.

"You in a bit of trouble then?" John asked with a smirk.

"Not that you need to know, but yes," Adam said tightly.

"I don't look anything like Jack Harkness," John objected. It was true too. From what he'd seen of Jack, the other man was broader with a completely different shade of hair.

"That's true, but neither does Jack till these three get their hands on him." Adam's wave encompassed his lackeys who smiled what were probably meant to be encouraging smiles. "And we all think you'd be perfect for the role."

"Yeah, thanks but no." John shook his head.

"Two hundred pounds," Adam offered.

"I'm not interested. I've given up on weddings."

"Five hundred pounds and it isn't a real wedding."

"I was almost in a wedding once. Lovely woman, ring cost me more than a new car. Or a used one, come to that," John told them, reaching into the cupboard and pulling out the bottle of whiskey he kept for special occasions, like a broken heart.

"Five thousand pounds," Adam said and from the looks the other two were giving him, it wasn't coming from a throwaway fund.

"Has someone in this town told you I'm desperate? Because I'm not, I'm really not. Only play the part from time to time." John measured out a good splash and inhaled deeply. "Look, I'm really not interested in being Jack Harkness. Donna will be back soon and we've got the menu for your shindig to go over."

"One hour playing a role. No strings attached and absolutely no sex scenes. Five thousand pounds." Adam smiled as he said it, suddenly reminding John of a saber-toothed tiger.

John shook his head, but Adam went on without giving him a chance to speak. "You can do something nice for your sister. Take her traveling, I've heard she wants to go. And this money would go nicely towards her vacation fund."

John abruptly shut his mouth. Of all the arguments Adam could have used, that was the only one which could have gotten his attention. He knew he owed Donna for always leaving her with the responsibility (their shared responsibilities as he had so blithely told Rose) of the TARDIS while he went off and traveled the world. How Adam found out about that, John didn't want to know, but he knew Adam had won his case. And so did Adam going by the triumphant look on the man's oily face.

The next thing John knew he had been bundled off to the spare bathroom (thankfully still clutching his glass of whiskey) where Shaun, Ianto, and Lynda attacked him with old-fashioned torture devices. Adam was not a sympathetic party, only waving his hand encouragingly at John's tormentors when his protestations caused them to pause in indecision. He put his foot down firmly at the idea of dying his hair and on that point, he would not be moved.

In the end he was wearing a bulky coat under his suit that more or less gave him the impression that he had more muscle than he had ever had in his life, a flat wide-brimmed hat, a fake goatee and mustache, and a pair of glasses that was the only part of the whole ensemble he rather liked. When he protested that Rose would see through the whole thing in a second, Adam assured him that Rose would have on a veil - a very, very thick veil - and Jack frequently went for disguises. John was certain that Jack would never go for anything as ridiculous as this get-up and tried to tell Adam this, but Adam shooed him towards the car and pretended not to hear him.

The car ride to the only church building in town consisted entirely of Adam informing John of all the things that could possibly go wrong (not that John needed the reminder) and pleading with him not to say anything (not that John needed that reminder either, the sting of Rose vanishing into a laundromat was still fresh).

When they arrived, Adam ushered John inside and to the front of the church where he left him to stand and smile awkwardly at the officiator - a man John had never seen before and could just as well be an actor too for all he knew. After an excruciating ten minutes (John kept track down to the last nanosecond), the church's front doors swung open and Rose came in followed closely by Lynda and Adam.

There was a flurry of movement as Adam settled into a pew and smiled a forced looking smile and then Rose proceeded to parade up the aisle. There was no music or sound of any sort and John tried very hard to pretend he was Jack while admiring Rose -- or at least her general shape -- Adam wasn't kidding about her wearing very thick veils.

The ceremony was the oddest one that John had ever observed. Rose was obviously confused, Lynda was tiptoeing around and peering into hymnals and seat back pockets searching for...something, and Adam kept hissing "hurry up" whenever the officiator paused for breath. They signed the marriage license halfway through because Adam thrust it at them and none of them had much choice.

When it came time for vows, well, John had told them that he was nothing like Jack, but up until that moment, he (and apparently Adam given that man's sudden gasp) had forgotten that Jack had a distinct American accent and John did not. He stumbled through the words, thanking every known deity that he just had to repeat them, not come up with his own, while trying to recall every American film he had ever seen. Rose was fidgeting with the edges of her veil, obviously desperate to shed it and find out what on earth was going on, but she managed to get through her part with hardly a hitch. When they got to the bit about rings, Adam was suddenly there, shoving rings into their hands, and then it was over and the officiator was pronouncing them "husband and wife."


	6. Chapter 6

Before Rose could properly whip off her veil to figure out what on earth was going on, there was a loud "Aha!" and a crashing sound and everyone spun towards Lynda who was holding a hymnal over a mangled piece of something with a triumphant grin. Before John had time to process whatever was happening with that, Rose's voice brought his gaze back to her.

"You! What are you doing here?" She glanced from John to Adam with a threatening expression.

"Ahh well now," Adam said before John could collect his thoughts. "Jack is missing. Went out on a run and then disappeared. Cassandra O'Brien was seen shortly afterwards and so we assume he saw her also and went to stop her. We had to go ahead with the wedding to make O'Brien think it was the real thing."

"So my fiancé is missing, chasing after some lunatic that goes out of her way to make his life miserable, and you didn't think you ought to tell me? Instead you bring in this, this, this stranger for me to marry instead?" Rose's voice was at an even keel that Donna sometimes had that always told John that she was particularly angry.

Adam apparently had no sisters because he responded in what he probably assumed was a placating tone, "It was the best course of action. For the greater good and all that. And that transmitter that Lynda just destroyed tells us that O’Brien was definitely trying to listen in and now she thinks you've gone and got married and she'll go off and leave you to get married for real."

"You think," Rose said.

"What?" Adam was taken aback.

"I said, you think. As in, you don't actually know. As in, my fiancé could be out there dying because he fell into the sea and I'm in here getting married to a complete stranger. Of all of the stupid, harebrained, ridiculous..." Rose's voice faded out as she continued to shake her head and glare at the unfortunate Adam. “Who is even looking for him?”

“Oh, you know, the group.” Adam waved his hand noncommittally.

“The group?” Rose looked as confused as John felt and then her face lost the remnants of its color. “Do you mean your group of beauticians? Who knows what’s out there! There could be ghosts and jinns and vampires and werewolves.”

Adam looked like he was going to make a reply, but thought better of it and shook his head with a testy expression.

John tried to hold perfectly still so that she would forget that he was there and continue to direct her anger at Adam. But he had to breathe eventually and this brought Rose's attention back to him.

"And you! You agreed to this? After you had the audacity to insult my show, you stand there and participate in this farce of a wedding? And for what? A laugh?" Her glare was like a supernova and he took a hasty step backwards.

"Uh, for the record," he began.

"Save it. I don't want to hear it right now." She turned back to Adam (who John was pleased to see also took a step back) and continued, "And what is your brilliant plan now?"

"To the reception hall to wait for Jack of course!" Adam said with a false smile.

He ushered them to the car insistently, not stopping to allow them to protest or refuse or to do anything but be swept where he wanted them to go. The car ride itself was extremely awkward as Rose would not look at John, or anyone else for that matter, and they were all jammed in so tightly there was hardly any room to breathe let alone be mad at anyone.

The reception was to take place at an old converted barn on the outskirts of town. What it was to be converted into had never been quite determined, but it had plenty of space with twisting passageways and vaulted ceilings and exposed beams. Personally, John thought that it would be the perfect place to commit a murder and had tried to convince Donna that they ought to report the owner – the town’s undertaker, a man with the shady name of Gabriel Sneed – but she just laughed at him.

Adam was no less adamant about where they were to go once they arrived and the whole company was directed inside at once. He feigned deafness when Rose threatened his job and he hardly gave John a passing glance.

It wasn’t until Lynda came darting towards them from wherever she had disappeared to, shouting Adam’s name and gesturing towards an open window that that man’s pace slacked at all.

“What?" he asked testily.

"Look, look!" Lynda's voice was nearly incomprehensible in her fervor.

The whole party walked to the window and watched with various expressions of shock and horror as a sudden entourage of reporters came swarming towards the barn from a caravan of vans just visible over the hill.

"Oh, for the love of God!" Adam exclaimed. "How the hell did they find out about this?"

Lynda was staring out the window in surprise and made no reply. John decided he'd had just as much as he could stand of this day and turned towards Adam.

"I'll take my check and my clothes, if you don't mind, and be on my way now," he said brightly. "Donna's expecting me to do the centerpieces."

“Listen,” Rose said, pushing herself past all of them and turning so that she was blocking the way into the narrow hallway. “I know Jack the best, I should go look for him.”

“Oh yes! You look for him? Why didn’t I think of that? What an absolutely brilliant idea!” Adam exclaimed with a false cheer that John didn’t like at all. “Come on both of you, follow me, I know a shortcut.”

It was a dubious suggestion, but he didn’t give them time to think about it. Instead he opened a door to the right and stepped aside to allow John and Rose to pass him. Once both of them were inside, Adam slammed the door and they could hear the ominous sound of a key being turned.

It took John a solid minute to process the fact that he had just been locked in a room with Rose Tyler by her insufferable publicist. He could hear Rose spluttering about something or other to Adam through the closed door, but he tuned her out and set his attentions towards observing the room.

It was evidently the room that was supposed to have been the honeymoon suite. It was a large, long room decorated with garlands of flowers and ivy like one would expect to find, but there also appeared to be small skeletons and ghosts entwined with the garlands. Ignoring that strange bit of decor, John noted that the room appeared to be an inner room with no obvious windows or exits other than the door Adam had locked behind them.

Reaching up, John untied his bow tie and took a deep, comfortable breath. He watched in amusement as Rose strode purposefully from one end of the room to the other, peering into nooks and crannies and rapping experimentally on the walls.

"Do you even remember my name?" he asked, half-amused and half-irritated with this new predicament.

"Oh yes, your name!" Rose said, laying one ear against the wall and listening. "If only I could remember your name we'd find our way out."

"No need to be rude, that's my job," John said. "Am I just a servant to you? Someone to dress up in a bloody tuxedo and parade around."

"This was not, if you recall, actually my idea, John!" Rose put particular emphasis on his name. "I'd much rather be here with Jack than with you. This isn't your wedding."

"Maybe not." He shrugged. "But it's apparently not yours either."

Rose had no reply to that and turned away. John smirked and watched her duck under a canopy of ivy, flowers, and ghosts. And then it dawned on him what kind of suite this was.

"Are you seriously having a Gallifrey Falls themed wedding night?" he asked, hardly able to keep back a snort of laughter.

Rose glanced around as if just now seeing the decorations. After a moment she turned back with a defiant look.

"So what if I am?"

"I suppose it could be worse," John said thoughtfully. "I could be stuck in Stephen King's wedding. Or George R. R. Martin'. Now that's, that's truly terrifying." 

"Just how much are they paying you," Rose asked, ignoring his comments.

He snorted. "Not quite as much as I would have asked for had I known I'd get locked in at your honeymoon as well. I was charging just for the wedding."

Rose turned away from him with a disgusted look. John shrugged and started moving about the room, desperately wishing he had his pair of Chucks on instead of the loafers - they were really pinching his feet. He wandered around the displays, entertaining himself by identifying which episodes they represented and sharing his findings with Rose. She was less than pleased with him, but right then he couldn't bring himself to care.

His irritation with the situation and Rose was morphing into general amusement. He couldn't quite force himself to take any of this seriously; it felt like something out of a bad film, or off of Gallifrey Falls. His attention was arrested by gift bags by the head table and he meandered over to them, pulling out items and laughing hysterically at them.

There were diamond studded watches, iPhones, tablets, and cufflinks. He had never seen so much wealth packed in one place before and never shoved onto technology or adorning something meant to be worn. And resisting a running commentary was next to impossible and so he didn't even try. That there were people who would buy a pen with a jeweled cap was not something he could understand, nor did he even try.

His diatribe was cut off by Rose's irritated voice.

"Look here, try to realize that I'm marrying Jack Harkness, I'm not marrying you." She spread out her arms and encompassed the whole room. "This was Jack's idea. And mine,” her voice trailed off. “My idea of a great wedding night!" She tried for conviction, but fell just short. 

John had no response since he'd just found a shirt inscribed with the words "I'm a Writer" and couldn't trust himself to say anything without bursting into tears of laughter.

"If I were marrying you, I'd bet we'd be somewhere you'd want to go. Like, oh, your great-grandfather's old fishing boat surrounded by really drunk people and watching old people try to dance," Rose said with a curl of her lip.

"You're being unnecessarily vicious," John replied, tossing the shirt down and moving across the room.

Rose gave the discarded pile of gifts a pointed look. "So are you."

But John's gaze had fallen on a television and a box set of Gallifrey Falls on a stand in the corner of the room. He chuckled as he hit play on the remote, not at all surprised to see the opening montage of the first episode play across the screen.

"Really great taste, you've got here. 10/10 would recommend." He thoughtfully watched the main character being chased by a zombie across Richard Lazarus' backyard. Richard was still mad about the damage that had been done to his flowerbeds.

His gaze hit upon the box set and he picked it up, smirking when he saw Rose's signature scrawled across the front. A thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Did you sign the license?" he asked as nonchalantly as he could.

"You saw me do it. Why?" she asked.

"Is that the bit that makes it legal? In the eyes of God and Queen and country and all?" he wanted to know. Rose made no reply and he kept on, "Because I just signed my own name on it."

"So?" Rose asked testily.

John didn't respond, just looked down at the gaudy gold band on his left hand and then back at Rose. Rose glanced at her own ring and back at him and the two stared at each other with equally horrified expressions.


	7. Chapter 7

Once the initial shock of discovering she was married to someone who wasn't Jack Harkness wore off, Rose found she couldn't maintain a great level of surprise. After all, with the way the last few weeks had gone, not much would actually surprise her. And John Noble wasn't terrible to look at, oh, he was insufferably rude and opinionated and had a propensity to talk too much that she'd never come across in another human and he was no Jack -- but he wasn't awful.

Therefore, when John snagged two bottles of champagne and settled himself against the headboard of the large bed, holding one of the bottles towards her, she hardly hesitated before clambering up beside him.

They sat and drank for a moment before she felt the need to break the silence. It was starting to get ominous.

"You're not already married, are you? That would be just the sort of thing we need."

"Nope, not married," he said cheerfully.

"Oh, right, I remember. Not married. How did you put it?" She glanced at him. "Footloose and fancy free?"

He shrugged and took a long swig from his bottle.

"You seem to be an authority of romance in television shows though, despite not actually being married." There was a tiny part of her that was shouting that she should quit antagonizing him, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

"Romance?" He laughed aloud. "Romance? In Gallifrey Falls? Where's the romance in that? You did actually watch your own show, right?"

"Of course I did!" She had marathoned both seasons in one night when she had been very, very drunk. "And it is very romantic."

He laughed again and took another drink, resulting in him coughing and spluttering all over them both.

"Watch that suit! It's borrowed, remember!" she exclaimed, watching droplets spray Jack's expensive tux.

"Oh, how could I forget?"

"How did they fit you into that anyway?" she asked, poking at his suspiciously broad shoulders.

"Easy!" John unbuttoned his jacket and removed it, revealing a bulky winter coat underneath, which he also shed. "See? Appearances can be deceiving."

She made an annoyed noise when he carelessly tossed both coat and jacket on the floor, but was distracted by him changing the subject.

"Did he make you sign a prenup?" At her biting of her lip, John fairly crowed with delight. "He did! He really did! What does he get? Half of the proceeds from the ten people who still buy Gallifrey Falls? A cut from Ebay?"

"I'm not after Jack for his money," Rose said defensively. "I haven't even lived with him until recently. He's converted the garret for me. A little writing studio."

"He keeps you in the attic?" John guffawed. "You're like the mad wife from _Jane Eyre_! Do you shriek at night and scare the guests? Or try to set the household staff on fire?"

Rose rolled her eyes at him. "You're like what? Thirty?"

"Twenty-eight! I'm only twenty-eight!" John gave her an injured look.

"You still live with your sister? At your age?" She shook her head. "Seems like you should be supporting her. What is it you do anyway? Head of the Gallifrey Film Critics Club?"

"I'm a writer," John said with a self-satisfied swig of his champagne bottle.

"Oh?" She leaned back. "This ought to be interesting. What is it that you write?"

"Something that people actually read." John mirrored her pose and crossed his ankles.

"Do you write biscuit packages? Nutrition facts? Fun facts on tampon boxes?" His tendency to ramble must be rubbing off on her. "How about ditties that children sing? The fine print for shopping catalogs? The terms and agreements for websites?"

"If you really must know, I write advertisement jingles," he said piously.

"What? Like figuring out what rhymes with Cornetto and annoying the daylights out of every living soul for days afterwards?" She threw back her head and laughed.

"That was fifty years ago, I didn't work on that one." He rolled his eyes. "And anyway, I don't do it anymore. I'm writing a book."

"Oh? Do tell."

"I'm writing a book about the inaccuracies in how television shows represent small towns." John swung his feet off the bed and walked over to the large wedding cake and proceeded to cut himself out a slice.

"What are you doing?" Rose exclaimed in horror. "Do you know how long it took to design that cake?"

"About fifteen minutes," John said, chomping down on the point of his piece. "If I'm right, and I usually am, this is the same cake that has been sitting in Scooti Manista's bakery for the last week. She usually makes a fresh one on Sundays."

"Ugh," Rose shuddered. "How are you eating that?"

"I'm hungry?" He shrugged. "Scooti didn't poison it, I can tell you that."

"That's not what I'm...oh, never mind." Rose broke off, glaring at him.

He was standing in the middle of her - admittedly questionable - honeymoon suite in his sock feet, trousers that were obviously too big, and Jack's best button-down with her wedding cake crumbs on it and icing around his mouth. She wasn't sure if she wanted to slap him or hug him and, at the moment, she was too tired to make up her mind.

John shrugged off her broken sentence and contented himself with downing the cake with gulps of champagne. Before Rose could collect her thoughts enough to yell at him for wrecking her day, there was a rattling noise at the far end of the room, and they both turned towards it in time to see a skinny blonde woman come tumbling through the door.

John looked confused, but Rose knew her at once.

"Cassandra!"

"Blondie," Cassandra returned coolly.

"What are you doing here?" Rose stared at the reporter with distaste. All of this trouble was really all her fault.

"Where's Jack?" Cassandra demanded.

"As if I'd tell you!" Rose glared at her. "Anyway, don't you have him stashed away somewhere?"

"If I had Jack, do you really think I'd come after you?" Cassandra sniffed. "Besides, you're engaged to the world's most sought after man and you're sleeping with him?" She gestured at John who took another massive bite of cake.

"I'm not sleeping with him," Rose began.

"Nope!" John said cheerfully, holding up his left hand where his (Jack’s) gold band glinted. "I'm just her husband."

"He is a terrible mistake which I intend to set right at my earliest possible convenience," Rose explained.

"You've failed to marry Jack again, that man is a better match for you anyway," Cassandra said bitingly.

"Why you little..." Rose could take no more.

With a strangled yell, she threw herself across the room, prepared to strangle Cassandra's skinny little neck. Cassandra dodged out of the way at the last moment, sending Rose careening into a display of vampires that came crashing down around her.

"Oh no you don't!" Rose yelled as Cassandra attempted to block her way and escape out the door.

Picking up the little vampire figurines, she started hurling them at Cassandra. Cassandra shrieked as a few of them met their mark, charging towards Rose and tackling her to the ground. Rose knew her dress was getting crushed and dirty rolling around on the floor, but at the moment all she wanted to do was to make Cassandra pay for the hell she had put them all through.

"Now here -- here is the next bestseller. Two women cat fighting over a man. Really, this is priceless." John's voice somehow pierced through the red haze that clouded Rose's vision.

Cassandra must have also heard John's words because she took one last swipe at Rose's face, scrambled to her feet, disappeared through the door, and locked it before Rose could reach it. Rose leaned against it with a defeated sigh. After all that, and all she had to show was a crumpled and dusty dress and several scratch marks on her face. Not to mention a now completely ruined honeymoon suite.

"Hullo!" John said suddenly from across the room. "Look at this."

He was tapping experimentally on some boards with his ear pressed close to the wall. Rose quickly joined him, watching him tap some more and listen intently.

"I think this is a false wall, I heard it when you were throwing vampires at Cassandra -- nice aim, by the way.” He paused in his tapping to grin at her. “Gabriel Sneed is such a conspiracy theorist, he would totally have built an inner room to protect him from something. Though who knows what, exactly. That man is scared of everything from ghosts to Margaret Blaine's rhododendron bushes. How he is the town's undertaker, I'll never know."

As John was speaking, he had grasped a hammer and now stepped back and swung it with a mighty crash at the wall. It gave way immediately and John continued pounding and prying with the hammer until they had a decent sized hole big enough for them to climb through.

The room they reached was almost a crawlspace, providing a slight damper between the outer wall and the inner room. And, more importantly, it had a wide window. Rose immediately went over and looked outside, only to be confronted by a blinding wall of white.

"What on earth?" she asked in shock.

"It appears to be snowing," John said, walking up beside her and peering out into the swirling mass.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious, I can see that," Rose said tartly. "I wasn't aware that it snowed in Gallifrey in August."

"Usually doesn't. Though doesn't strange weather take up the two-parter that ended season one of Gallifrey Falls? Maybe the weather is celebrating you stepping foot in the town," John smirked.

Rose didn't deign to answer; she had more important things on her mind. If she remembered correctly, they were only one story up. She wasn't entirely sure what lay below them, but with the snowstorm, she couldn't imagine that too many people would be out and about. Spying a rope on the floor, she lifted it and fed it through the window. John watched her in silence, something that made her increasingly nervous, until she couldn't take it anymore.

"What?" she asked him.

"Just waiting to see you climb down a rope in that gown into a raging snowstorm," he said. "Didn't think women were into that."

She rolled her eyes at him. There was a certain something in his eyes that suggested he was just making inane comments to get a rise out of her and it wasn't going to work this time.

"Well, it's not something I do every day, but Jack is out there and I'm going to go find him." She climbed onto the window ledge and prepared to scale down the wall. "Are you coming?"

He opened his mouth and she braced herself for a joke like Jack would make, but he only smiled and said, "Right behind you."


	8. Chapter 8

She was crazy. There were a lot of things about Rose Tyler that John had known to be true before today, but he had never had an inkling about the depths of craziness that lurked in her veins. But now as he followed her through a tiny window into a swirling snowstorm in the middle of bloody August, he knew that all those articles that Donna had made him read about the writer of Gallifrey Falls had gotten it wrong: Rose Tyler was absolutely not in possession of all of her marbles. He wasn't sure what that said about the fact that he was actually following her, but he chose not to dwell on that bit of the scenario.

The drop to the ground outside was relatively short thankfully and they landed on somewhat solid ground. John thought it might have been on Sneed's lilac bushes, but chose not to mention this fact out loud. He was learning, slowly, that everything he said to Rose came out sounding like he was criticizing her, something he wasn't actually doing intentionally. Well, maybe a little, she was really attractive with little spots of color in her cheeks, but he was mostly trying to be a gentleman. He just hadn't had much practice in that area.

He was obliged to grab the back of her dress to avoid losing her in the wall of white and they hadn't gone more than a half dozen steps before he realized she had to be freezing. Despite the increasingly cold temperatures in Gallifrey over the past several days, whoever had designed her dress had clearly done so based more off of the calendar than the weather and the tiny sleeves barely covered her upper arms. Without speaking and without letting go of her, John managed to shrug out of his jacket and hand it over. She gave him a look or, at least he assumed that she did; he couldn't actually see her expression, but her head turned towards him though she accepted the coat without comment.

It left him in only his button down and he wished in vain for his trenchcoat that Donna was fond of disparaging. Or even the leather jacket he used to wear all through his teenage years. Or literally anything that would provide him some element of protection against the snowflakes that were biting against his face, neck, and hands.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" He had to shout against the wind, but he wasn't enjoying the silence. Or the silence that he was receiving from Rose at any rate. Between the wind, the crunch of their footsteps, and what sounded like faraway shouts, it was far from actually silent.

"Probably more than you do." Her reply came back at him borne on the howling wind and he sighed.

He knew that her perception of him as a first class fool was his own fault and he also knew that he had started the whole let's-see-who-can-be-the-rudest game, but he hadn't the slightest idea of how to change things now.

"Well, it is my town," he responded halfheartedly. "Lived here since I was a child, a baby really. I can't say I lived here all my life though because I moved away when I was eighteen. Moved back though. And then away. And so on. Donna says I do that too often. Move that is. She's okay with the moving back, it's the moving away thing she has issue with."

"Are you sure it isn't the talking thing?" Rose actually turned against the wind to make sure he heard that one.

"I won an award for talking, actually," he went on unperturbed. "When I was twelve I went to summer camp and they had a contest for Most Talking In Ten Minutes and I said 1925 words which is about 190 words per minutes. That's a bit better than average. I'm a bit better than average really. In everything."

"And so modest too." She sounded almost amused. He took that as a definite win.

"Listen, I think we should be moving a bit more in a south-easterly direction. If you're headed for the TARDIS, and I would assume you are, that's where you want to go. If we keep heading straight we're going to end up in the sea. Either that or in Davros' backyard and trust me, you definitely don't want to do that." He shuddered. "I accidentally rode through Davros' yard when I was a boy and that was not... not a good experience."

"How on earth do you suppose we turn ourselves in a south-easterly direction?" Rose asked, her teeth chattering violently. "Do you have a bloody compass back there?"

"I do, yeah, in my head," John agreed modestly. "I have an uncanny sense of direction. I get compliments on it all the time. In fact, just last week-ow!" He yelped when Rose smacked his arm. "What was that for?"

"Will you shut up about your accomplishments for one moment and pay attention. Where did you say the TARDIS was?" Rose exclaimed.

He sniffed delightedly. "Oh, now you want my help? Well, if you'll just follow me."

He took a step past Rose and immediately fell flat on his face, pulling Rose down with him since he hadn't yet let go of her dress. There was a moment of blind confusion that was a mass of skirts and snow and asphalt before John could figure out which way was up. He spat out mouthfuls of dirt and snow and started prattling about "happens all the time" and "meant to do that" before he realized that Rose hadn't sat up.

Instantly he was on his knees at her side, his fingers checking for a pulse. His questing fingers found one immediately, but also a knot on the back of her head that came away bloody. He figured she must have hit her head when she fell and temporarily blacked out. The only bit of First Aid that he could remember was that you should never move someone who might have a head injury so he poked at her shoulder and called her name a few times to no response. Not sure what else to do, he picked up her hands and tried to rub some warmth back into them.

She slowly came back to consciousness, moaning and groaning in a way that should probably not have been as sexy as it was. After all she was still dangerously cold and bleeding and her dress was torn and it was still snowing and they were sitting in the middle of the street. 

Rose blinked at him before narrowing her eyes. "You ripped Jack's shirt."

John couldn't help laughing. "Well you pretty much ruined that dress and his suit jacket so I guess that makes us even."

He located a handkerchief in his trouser pockets (was Jack the sort to carry a handkerchief? somehow John doubted it) and wiped off the majority of the blood on Rose's head wound. With his help she got to her feet and they started on their way. She was dizzy and was forced to lean on him for much of the way, something he had absolutely no objection to whatsoever.

Between the still heavily falling snow and Rose's continued dizziness, it was slow going, but at last they found themselves at the TARDIS' gates. John didn't think he had ever been happier to see the familiar blue building and he couldn't even find the strength to summon irritation at Adam for the changes he had wrought at the moment.

John and Rose made it into the kitchen and smiled nervously at each other before Rose started towards the stairs leading to the guest part of the house and he moved towards the family side of the house. He had just kicked off his soaked shoes and was working the buttons on his shirt when he heard Rose's voice calling.

"Yes?" He moved to the hall to shout down the stairs, his fingers still numbly pushing buttons apart.

"I appear to, erm, not have clothes. I mean, I think Adam moved all my clothes out already. In preparation for the honeymoon." Rose's voice grew nearer as she climbed the stairs.

"Ahh, well, I'm sure Donna has some stuff that would fit you," he said doubtfully. The idea of rooting through his sister's clothes drawers sounded horrific, but Rose's wedding dress was a filthy mess that was dripping onto the carpet.

"Oh!" Inspiration struck and John stuck his head into the attic stairwell. "She's always sticking old stuff up here to donate or to keep around in case some guest needs it."

He quickly located the bins of clothes and handed them off to Rose whose chattering teeth and blue lips suggested that they ought to hurry a little bit more.

"I'll, um, I'll start the water. For a shower," he offered when Rose pulled open a bin full of women's underthings. As much as he was curious, he didn't actually need to know what size bra Rose wore.

He hastily stumbled down the attic stairs and stepped into the loo to flip on the water. Only the water didn't turn on. He tried the faucets too, just in case, but sighed in defeat when they merely gurgled a bit and yielded nothing.

"Sorry," he apologized when Rose's face appeared around the bathroom door. "I think the pipe's are frozen. They do that. When it freezes outside, you know. I've been meaning to get a better system, but I've been busy. Away. Doing stuff. It's on my list. To fix them. Or to get someone to fix them. I'm not a plumber. Um."

Grabbing a towel from the cupboard he shoved it at Rose and tried to exit the room past Rose without making either physical or eye contact. John let out a sigh of relief when he reached the hall, turning towards his bedroom. He'd stripped off his socks and button-down before he remembered that he'd forgotten a towel for himself.

"Rose, erm, Rose!" he called, tapping at the closed bathroom door.

It swung open and Rose raised an eyebrow at him. She had also shed both shoes and stockings but was still clad in her dripping gown.

"Um, towel. I need. A towel," he stuttered to a stop and gestured towards the closet.

Rose snorted with suppressed laughter and tossed the towel he had gotten out for her at him.

"Before you go," she said, stopping him in mid-step. "Would you mind undoing the buttons of my dress? They button in the back." She turned without giving him a chance to respond.

"Yeah, sure. Yes. Of course." John forced his mouth shut and focused on keeping his hands from trembling as he worked each tiny button out of its corresponding hole, gradually exposing Rose's back.

It was a beautiful back. He'd never considered himself to be a back man, he wasn't even certain if there was such a thing as a back man, but Rose's back was truly a thing of beauty, freckled and soft and he wanted to lick it in the worst way. Instead he tried to keep his thoughts in check and his mouth from spitting out nonsense and when he could see the dip before her bum he let go of her dress hastily and backed up, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

He closed his bedroom door to the sound of her laughter and tried not to focus on what she found entertaining. It was the work of only a couple of minutes to strip the rest of his damp clothes off, towel off, and redress. He was back in the hall in clean, dry clothes by the time Rose emerged from the bathroom.

The sight of her in a giant neon sweater, flowered leggings, and a pair of bright orange boots that Donna had promised him was going to find their way to the bin not the donation pile had him fighting to control his own laughter. Rose seemed to be fighting a similar battle and at last she gave up, doing a spin to show off the outfit and chuckling hysterically. When they'd both regained control of their merriment, they made their way to the kitchen where John put on the kettle for tea and cranked up the heat.


	9. Chapter 9

"So, did you have a brother then?" Rose asked once they both had steaming mugs of tea in front of them. 

She was in the rocking chair, feet tucked up under her and John had Donna's usual armchair. He looked towards where Rose was pointing, curious what she could be referring to and smiled when he saw the candle, the photo frame, and the dried flowers.

"No, that's Lee. Donna's fiance-to-be. He died in a boating accident a week before their wedding," John explained. He still missed Lee and the brotherly advice and help he offered, but didn't feel like sharing that bit with Rose.

"Ahh, sorry to hear that." Rose nodded sympathetically and then gestured towards the refrigerator door. "Is that your...?"

John turned to look, chuckling when he saw the hastily stuck up picture of Gwyneth. "No, no, no, no. Maybe should have been. Could have been. She wanted it to have been. But she was too stable for me. I prefer women with commitment issues who are dating other men." He shrugged self-deprecatingly. "Last one I dated was dating three, not counting me."

"Sounds like a real winner then," Rose commented.

"Yep. She was a model and descended from the queen of France, so she said. She told me she only dated men with royal blood who were going somewhere. I guess heir to a motel that was on a television show didn't quite make her cut." He smiled, marveling that the memories seemed a bit easier to bear for some reason. "She used to call me angel when we were dating, but afterwards told me I was a Lonely Angel. Not sure what that was supposed to mean."

"Well, they say that when you stop looking is when you..." Rose began.

"Find someone?" John cut her off with a smirk. "Actually, I think marriage hasn't been bad so far. At least the fact that you are going to leave me for someone else is something we've agreed on in advance. Definitely will make it easier in the long run."

Rose nodded and took another sip of her tea.

John stretched out his legs towards the crackling fire. "What's he like? Your Jack? I guess he's pretty normal. Just another guy on the street?"

Rose was shaking her head before he even finished speaking, a far off look in her eye. "No, no he's different and funny and interesting and kind and loving." A smile crossed her lips. "And handsome and really wonderful. And generous, oh so generous. And so much fun to be around. And smart. And sweet. And really, just everything."

For a moment he wanted to storm out looking for Jack and throttle him, but he forced himself to stay still and make a joke about how Jack couldn't do an Irish jig which he proceeded to demonstrate. Rose laughed and of course had to stand up and give it a try herself. By the time they had tired themselves out with a version of a jig that would have the masters rolling in their graves, they were both exhausted and laughing uncontrollably. 

After that it was easier to settle into conversation without inserting little digs into each sentence. John couldn't help but wish they had met like this when Rose was still directing Gallifrey Falls and he'd had the chance to meet her then and not made a complete fool of himself. But for once his brain to mouth circuit didn't fail him and he kept his mouth shut, choosing to simply enjoy the moment knowing that it was going to end sooner rather than later.

When the snow lessened and finally stopped, Rose went back to the attic to find old winter boots and a coat to wear and John prepared himself to join her in facing the inclement weather. They were just finishing pulling on the necessary outwear when the front door banged open and Donna's voice could be heard shouting through the house.

"John! There's money dropped down Margaret Blaine's well and if we hurry it will still be there. Come on!" She came barreling around the corner and stopped short at the sight of Rose struggling into an old overcoat.

"What on earth?" Donna began, but John cut her off.

"Donna, this is my wife!"

"Your wife?" Donna exclaimed. "John, do you have any idea who that is? Just what have you been doing today?" 

"It's been a busy day," Rose said with a smile. "Nice to see you again, Donna."

"Likewise, I'm sure," Donna said. "John! Do you not know she is engaged?"

"It has come to my attention, yes," John nodded. "But that's just a detail. A truly minor detail."

Both women shook their heads at him.

"Anyway," John turned back to Donna with a forced smile. "What's this about money in Margaret Blaine's well?"

"Oh," Donna glanced briefly at Rose and then returned her attention to him. "Jack Harkness made me dump the money down there that I made for selling the Harkness-Tyler wedding to the press. He hasn't made it to his wedding, you know. He's on his way to the cove to meet up with, well, Rose."

There was a moment of strained silence where none of them looked at anyone else.

"So, clever plan then," Rose said at last. "Selling the wedding and then manufacturing the need for the decoy just to earn a few extra pounds. Almost had me convinced there for a bit. Truly you have a talent. I'd guess you have a future in cinema. Maybe get the lead on your own show someday."

"Listen, I didn't..." John started, but Rose cut him off.

"For the record, for a trap to work there has to be something adequately attractive." Without a backwards glance, Rose stormed from the house, letting the door slam behind her.

There was complete silence in the wake of her departure. Donna busied herself with something at the counter and John poured himself a generous drink and downed it in one hearty swallow.

"John," Donna said after he had poured himself another glass. "I didn't mean to..."

"Donna, you're my sister and I love you, but why?" John practically shouted. "It was obvious you knew who she was. Why did you do that?"

Donna sighed heavily and sank down into a chair. "Selling the wedding was one of the only ways that I could see to finish paying the expenses for a vacation. Plus, it was partially Jack's idea. He wanted the press here. He just didn't want it to turn out like this."

"What?"

"Jack asked me last night to call one name, a reporter that he knew, that was supposed to get a few good shots to sell tomorrow. He gave me a certain amount to do it. But I called more, knowing that they would give me a cut of the profits. And I was right." Donna sighed. "I didn't expect Jack to find out, but he did. Obviously. I ran into him today and he found out what I did and made me dump it in Margaret's well."

John took a moment to digest that news, but then returned to his original question. "But why did you tell me in front of Rose?"

"I didn't realize you cared about her," Donna said quietly. "She is engaged to Jack, John. Jack Harkness. Or she was. What did you do today anyway?"

John took a deep breath and then explained his day, starting with meeting Rose on the street, Adam's request, the wedding, getting locked in Sneed's barn, Cassandra's attack, and the subsequent escape. 

"I didn't expect her, Donna," he finished. "She's so different from, well, everyone. She has a spark that I've never seen in any other woman. She reminds me of you, actually."

"I'm not sure whether to feel complimented or insulted," Donna chuckled. "But really, John, I didn't know all of that. I was trying to save you."

"Yeah," John sighed. "I don't know what to do now though."

"What do you want to do now?" 

"I, I don't, I don't want to just let her go," John said slowly. "But, like you said, she's engaged to Jack."

"She's married to you," Donna reminded him. "Listen, do you want to build a shrine to him and have yearly vigils? Do you want to put your life on hold because of this?"

"Donna, you haven't put your life on hold," he protested.

"Yes, I have and you know it," Donna argued. "Lee's death hurt me, yes. But I could have picked myself up and done something more with my life. I could have tried to sell this place ages ago. But I didn't. I chose to sit around and mope. And you don't want to do that and I won't let you anyway."

"So, what should I do then?" he asked.

"Go, John!" she exclaimed. "Go after her. Chase her down and present your case. The worst she can do is tell you no and you sitting here is her saying no in your head."

John stood in indecision for half a second and then stood up and impulsively gave Donna a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Donna," he whispered.

She laughed, swatting the back of his head. "Go you daft idiot."

And he went.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you guys think.

Rose found herself thankful for the snow and distinct bite to the air as she trudged along the road away from the TARDIS; it gave her something to concentrate on that wasn't her tumultuous thoughts. She wanted to believe that John wouldn't stoop so low as to profit on her wedding in such a way, but on the other hand he had pretended to be Jack to make some quick money so did she really have any idea what he was capable of? There was something something trustworthy in his eyes, something that made her want to believe he was a good man, but she also had to admit that she didn't really know him at all. In a different lifetime, if she was someone else, she was almost certain that John would have swept her off her feet completely.

The wind kicked up suddenly sending a large clump of snow down on her head and it knocked some sense back into her brain. What was she thinking? She was engaged to Jack, a very lost Jack who was waiting for her… somewhere and who she needed to get back to immediately. Shaking her head she continued on her way, thoughts firmly centered on Jack. And if a pair of brown eyes and really great hair occasionally danced in her mind's eye, well, she did her very best to pretend they weren't there.

It was about fifteen minutes of extremely cold wandering later that she finally admitted that this was fifth time she had passed the same art sculptures on the same front lawn. She was lost. For a small backwoods town, Gallifrey was surprisingly full of twists and turns and she could have sworn that the streets were set up to go in circles. It didn't help that the houses were starting to look the same, especially draped with snow and ice.

When she arrived at the sculptures for the sixth time, she stopped, glaring at the house as if it had personally wronged her. With a huff of frustration she started up the path, not stopping until she was stamping her feet on the front porch. Now that she was actually standing there, she couldn't help but notice there was a distinct air of foreboding about the house, as if it knew things it wasn't willing to share with the world. However it was heavenly to be out of the wind and beggars couldn't be choosers.

With the chilling thought that this house would fit perfectly on Gallifrey Falls, Rose rang the doorbell. She could hear the echo of the enormous sound through what sounded like cavernous rooms and Rose took a moment to be amazed that she could hear it that clearly above the howling wind and through walls.

Before she could think twice of her latest poor life choice, the door swung up slowly revealing a small man sitting in a wheelchair. He was bald and wrinkled and obviously elderly, but in the sort of way that brought to mind every horror movie she had ever seen and not being plied with peppermints and overpowered with Old Spice.

"Can I help you?" the man rasped when it became evident that Rose wasn't going to speak.

"Oh, no, I doubt it," Rose stuttered. "I mean, I've just remembered the answer to what I was going to ask."

She backed away, trying desperately to keep her footing and vaguely wondering if John's rambling was actually contagious.

"I can't let a pretty woman like you wander about in the cold," the man argued, scooting his electric powered wheelchair further onto the porch. 

"Not actually cold," Rose disagreed. "I was just going to compliment you on your sculptures anyway."

She waved vaguely in the direction of the sculptures.

"Ahh, you like my daleks," the man nodded slowly. "They are my children."

"Your what?" Rose swung her head back to stare at him, unsure if it was the bit where he referred to iron sculptures as his children or the fact that he had blatantly stolen a trademark name from her show that she was more bothered by.

"My children," he repeated. "I was inspired to create these back when I was young and it was simultaneously the best and worst decision of my life."

"You created them?" Rose was irritated enough that she forgot his creepiness for a moment.

"I created the sculptures. Gave them life. Gave them a future." His voice was breathy.

"You stole my idea!" Rose exclaimed. "The daleks were mine! I came up with the name! Albeit I was drunk and rearranging the letters on my atlas, but still! My idea!"

"And who are you?" The man turned his watery eyes on her and Rose stood up a little straighter.

"I'm Rose Tyler! Writer of Gallifrey Falls," she added, in case that bit wasn't immediately obvious.

The man started cackling. "Oh this is fantastic, absolutely fantastic. Of course you are, of course it is! Oh this is all too perfect. Everything is coming together exactly the way it should!"

Rose stared at him, mouth falling open in her shock. It was obvious that everyone in this town was absolutely barmy (with the possible exception of Donna, though there was the small matter of selling her wedding for a profit that couldn't just be ignored).

"I need a picture. You and me and the daleks!" the man crowed. "This is the most perfect day. You there! Young man! Come take the picture."

Rose spun around, hoping that someone was actually there and it wasn't just the man's crazy ravings. Her heart sank a little at the sight of John standing rocked back on his heels, with his hands in his pockets, observing the scene before him with obvious entertainment. But her irritation at him could be set aside in favor of his rescuing her from the situation.

"John!" she exclaimed, heading quickly off of the porch towards him. "So good to see you!"

John gave her an amused smile before opening his mouth and calling out towards the old man. "Sorry Davros, I've got to steal Rose away. Adventures to be had other places today."

"Ahh, of course, of course." the man - Davros - agreed. "The planets are aligned in agreement of this day. Mark my words! Things will happen today that will change the course of all humanity!" He shook his fist at them and backed his wheelchair up, the sound of the front door slamming reverberating through the air.

"What on earth?" Rose demanded.

"Oh that was Davros!" John said almost fondly. "Remember I mentioned him earlier? Before you almost got a concussion?"

"I don't recall you mentioning you had a man like that as a neighbor!" she told him, turning away and setting off down the street, hoping to put some distance between herself and Davros.

"Not technically my neighbor," John said jovially. "And he is really practically harmless. He just likes to predict things. He's rarely right, though. He was once, though. I was fifteen and he said that..."

Rose could take no more. "John! I don't want to hear it! I want a divorce!"

He nodded mildly. "Of course you do. I don't really blame you. I would want a divorce from me too, I'd guess. Never been married to myself. Is that even legal? Marrying oneself?"

As he spoke, he set his hand on her elbow and gently steered her up a side street. "Anyway," he went on, "the person you want to speak to really is my neighbor."

Rose had nothing to say to this revelation and followed him up the street in silence. They hadn't gone more than twenty paces before a snowball suddenly came out of nowhere and struck Rose on the side of the head.

"What now?" she demanded, when she could breathe. "What on earth is going on in this town now?"

Before John could answer there was a volley of snowballs that smacked both her and John.

"Duck!" John called, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her down.

"Seriously! What is it?" Rose asked.

"Shhh!" he hissed, eyes narrowing towards the hedge. He formed a few snowballs as he squatted there and then stood and fired them rapidly in the direction of the attack.

There was the sudden sound of the snowballs reaching their intended target, followed by more appearing. Rose covered her face and wished vaguely that she had never heard of such a place as Gallifrey. The fight went on for longer than she cared to keep track of, but eventually the sound of "Truce!" could be heard and John stopped firing at once.

"Come on out, Gwen!" he called, holding a snowball loosely in his hand, obviously trusting the ceasefire.

A couple of seconds later, a scrambling could be heard from the direction of the hedge and then a woman appeared, covered in snow and glowering at them both.

"Still a worthy opponent," she conceded, holding out her hand to John.

He shook it solemnly and then turned to help Rose to her feet. Rose ignored his outstretched hand and stood up on her own.

"Rose Tyler, this is Gwen C…Williams,” he corrected himself with a nervous smile. "Gwen, Rose." John made the introductions.

"Nice to meet you," Rose said quietly, not liking the look in the other woman's eye at all.

Gwen nodded stiffly. "So, this is the one that I've heard came in and took our young men."

"What?" Rose exclaimed at the same time as John gave an incensed snort.

"Your men?" he demanded, then wrinkled his brow. "Just how many are you accusing Rose of stealing? We don't have that many young singles. Just me, really. Well, actually," he glanced at his hand with a small smile, "none anymore." 

"We could still be together, John. Let's run away together." Gwen grabbed John's hand desperately, completely ignoring his ramblings. "I never thought I had a chance with you. You're so handsome and sexy and smart and well-traveled and I'm just the local sort. But we could make this work, I know we could. No one wakes up your adventurous spirit like I do!"

"You're married, Gwen, might I remind you. To Rhys!" John said, stepping backwards from her grip. "And I wouldn't quite agree with the waking up my adventurous spirit bit either."

"But I don't want to be with him! I've never wanted him. I've always wanted you!" Gwen argued. "Ever since we were young and we stole the raft and tried to sail to discover new worlds, remember? Tell me you remember."

Rose could hold her tongue no longer. "Such a shame, isn't it? You're married to Rhys. He's married to me. Sad world we live in."

"He's married?" Gwen practically shouted. "To whom?"

"To me," Rose shrugged, waving her left hand about, momentarily forgetting that it was encased in a glove.

"Is that true?" Gwen turned back to John.

He nodded placidly. "Appears to be. Been a bit of a crazy day, you see."

"Alright, we'll fight for him," Gwen said, nodding determinedly at Rose.

"What?" Rose backed up. "No, I don't fight."

"Not a good idea, really, not a good idea," John said, stepping forward between them.

Gwen paid him no mind. "If I win, I keep him. You win, I'll let you live in wedded bliss forever."

There was so many things in that that Rose wanted to argue with, but Gwen was already reaching down to pack snow. Without stopping to think through her actions, Rose scooped up a large handful of snow and flung it at Gwen's face, quickly following that with another large volley. Gwen skidded backwards, thoroughly surprised by the onslaught of snow, and tripped into a bush, landing flat on her bum.

"I wanted to grow old with you, John," she mourned. "Grow old and have kids and live in Gallifrey happily forever. You're handsome and sexy now, but I'll still love you even when you're bald and drool. Will she?"

Rose avoided John's gaze at this statement, adrenaline from the snow battle still coursing through her veins. She wasn't ready to think about anything else.

John broke the sudden silence. "Gwen, I'm sorry. Go back to Rhys and work out whatever's going on. It'll be worth it in the end. He loves you and that's the best way to have a relationship. Trust me on this."

"So do you two love each other?" Gwen asked.

It was John's turn to avoid her gaze. After a moment, he stretched out a hand to help Gwen to her feet.

"I'm good here," she said, rubbing her hands together and looking off down the street.

Without another word, John and Rose turned away and continued up the street in silence.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to the end!

Rose refused to look or speak to John as she followed him up the street. For once he seemed to have nothing to say to her either and the silence between them was nearly deafening. Rose’s mind was whirling from the confrontation and she wasn’t sure how to even go about processing what had happened, let alone bringing John into the discussion.

She was no longer certain how she felt about the man walking beside her, and she did her best to focus on navigating and not on trying to pin down the enigma of John Noble. The street they followed had not yet been plowed and just struggling over the snowdrifts was an adventure in and of itself. A few times Rose had to accept John's outstretched hand to help her over an icy patch and she grabbed the back of his coat to steady him more than once.

By the time they reached the end of the street, the silence had subsided into a gentle one, the edges softened and more easily faced. When John stopped suddenly, Rose allowed herself to bump his shoulder with her own instead of bursting into frustration with his inability to inform her of what he was planning to do. His continued stillness drew her eyes upwards and she drew in her breath sharply at the sight before them.

She had known that Gallifrey sat on the edge of a harbor, but she was not prepared for the stormy sea that stretched in all directions. The swells were dark greens and blues, crashing over the rocky beach and retreating into its own before repeating the process. Here and there birds darted in search of a tasty meal, cawing out their triumphs or frustrations. The slanting rays from the late afternoon sun caught the icy waves, refracting the light in all directions.

Rose found herself reaching for John as she stared out across the water, the magnificence making her feel small and in need of the reassurance of another person. To his credit he didn't act like her hand slipping into his was a big deal, instead he loosely laced their fingers and waited quietly until she had looked her fill.

"I might be biased," he said at last, "but I really think this might be the prettiest bay in the country. Or possibly the world."

She smiled, thinking of some of the places she had been or researched, but she didn't argue with him. There was a raw beauty here that appealed to her.

"I wish I had been here sooner," she said softly.

His grip on her hand tightened and she realized what her words sounded like to him. She started to open her mouth to correct him, she had been referring to the bay and how that would have helped her write Gallifrey Falls more believably, but then she shut it as an image flashed through her brain.

_The two of them were standing in that very spot with rings on their fingers, but under vastly different circumstances. There had been a little wedding, surrounded by close friends and family, and a rollicking party afterwards. They had crept away unnoticed once the alcohol had begun to flow more freely, finding a moment to be alone together. She was standing in front of him, his arms wrapped around her waist anchoring her to him, her head resting back on his shoulder. He was whispering in her ear, delightfully naughty things about later, sweet words of love, rambling stories that had nothing to do with anything._

Rose couldn't contain her gasp as the image slowly faded, leaving her with only the remnants of how loved and desired she had felt in that moment. She could feel John's eyes on her in concern, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead she gently disengaged her fingers from his and nodded back towards the town.

"So, where is this person who is going to be able to sort this mess out?" she asked, knowing her voice didn't sound as normal as she wanted it to.

He nodded tightly and turned away, setting off down the street with longer strides than he had been taking earlier. Rose had to hurry to keep up with him, cursing her brain, her desires, and his stupid long coat and spiky hair and adorable smiles all the while.

When they finally arrived in front of a squat brick house, Rose barely refrained from rolling her eyes. John hadn't been kidding about being neighbors with the person who was going to save them from this farce of a marriage - they were actually catercorner from the TARDIS.

The elderly gentleman who John introduced Rose to as Wilf was the complete opposite from Davros in every way. Where Davros was shriveled and cackling, Wilf moved with a sprightliness that belied his age and spoke in a comforting voice that made Rose relax.

"Not even married five minutes and already wanting a divorce," Wilf tutted as he moved about his small home preparing them some tea. "That's bound to set some sort of record. Why don't you give this marriage a try first?"

Rose struggled to find some way to explain Jack and snowstorms and Cassandra and Adam's interference, but John spoke first.

"Because she's supposed to be marrying Jack Harkness," he supplied. At Wilf's expression of confused indifference, he went on, "The big actor? Face on all the magazines and just about every show on telly? Anyway, he's different and funny and interesting and generous."

Rose turned to stare at John as he spoke. She couldn't disagree with the words he was speaking - especially considering the fact that he was quoting her own words from earlier - but there was a sincerity in the way he was speaking them that was tearing at her heart.

John was still listing Jack's attributes. "And fun to be around and smart and loving and wonderful and sweet and kind and just everything."

Wilf looked unconvinced. "But she's married to you."

"Exactly," John responded. "How could an average basically unemployed vagabond who sort of owns half a motel compete with all of that?"

Rose could take no more. "You're not average," she told him, frustrated with his self-deprecating words. Jack was all of those things, but John had plenty of positive qualities and she did not like hearing him pretend he didn't.

John looked at her with a surprised smile, but made no move to agree or disagree with her words. Before he could, Wilf's words broke over their moment.

"He could be named Person of the Year with a Nobel Peace Prize and he'd be wrong for someone." Wilf poured their tea and brought it over, his sharp eyes missing neither Rose's startled jump nor the reddening of John's cheeks.

"Weddings are like sunrises. They are beautiful in their own way, but only for a few moments." Wilf set his own drink down and remained standing, staring down at them both with a wise expression. "Marriage is an ocean, ever-changing, ever-dangerous, but an adventure worth having."

John smiled up at Wilf. "We got married by mistake. Not the best foundation for an enduring marriage, more like a stream actually, easily dried up by drought or frozen in winter."

Wilf shook his head at John. "If you're both certain." He waited for their head nods before continuing. "In Gallifreyan history, the story goes that men from this village used to be fine lads, well-versed in the ways to provide for a family and handsome to look upon. Women from far and near would come to try to win a man's heart and if that didn't work, a woman would tie the man up and cart him off with her. Well this grew to be a great problem and so the law came into being that if the man could be reclaimed before consummation the marriage didn't count.

"It's still in Gallifreyan law and all the local places will honor it. So, if you can make it to this Jack before nightfall, your license with Rose would be annulled and you would be free to marry this Jack. If that's what you both still want."

"How long have we got before nightfall?" Rose asked, mind racing with possibilities.

"Oh, about twenty minutes," Wilf waved his hand airily. "The world has plenty of time, provided you don't waste it and plenty of waists, provided you don't time them."

Rose and John stared at him, trying to work out what that had to do with anything, and Wilf smiled at them. "You think about it while I go gather my things. It's been awhile since I've done an annulment ceremony and even longer since I've done a wedding."

He meandered out of the room and Rose and John glanced at each other and then away. Rose thought there should probably be something she ought to say to John, but just then she remembered that they had to meet Jack somewhere in twenty minutes time and they had no idea where Jack was.

"What's the cove?" Rose asked suddenly. "Isn't that where we just were looking out over the sea?"

"No," John shook his head. "That's the harbor. The cove is about a ten minute walk, very near the barn where we were married. Actually, I'm surprised you don't know it - it features very prominently in your show."

Rose opened her mouth to defend herself with a biting retort, but then caught sight of the twinkle in John's eye and shook her head. "So I didn't actually do that much research into the show before I wrote it. Did you try all the products that you wrote advertisements for?"

He laughed, a sound of pure happiness that had Rose laughing along. They were still intermittently chuckling when Wilf rejoined them.

"That sounds much better," he beamed at them. "One last thing though. The marriage hasn't been consummated yet, has it?"

John choked on his breath and started coughing violently. Rose patted his back and shook her head at Wilf.

"It's been a bit of a crazy day," she said a bit wistfully. "I haven't had time."

"Well, the universe has plenty of time." He turned towards the door, beckoning them to follow. "Plenty of time, my dears."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're almost done!

John and Rose lagged a few steps behind Wilf as they made their way down the street. Despite his encroaching age, Wilf took sprightliness to whole new levels and, besides, John wanted to make the most of his last few moments with Rose before she jumped back into Jack's arms.

The streaks of the dying sun lit up the streets, reflecting off of the mounds of ice and snow and sending rainbows in every direction. They danced on Rose's blonde hair and when she looked at him, mouth curved in a slight smile, they were there in her eyes. John found his heart simultaneously leaping and sinking at how beautiful she looked. Determined to hoard all the memories he could, John opened his mouth and said the first thing on his mind.

"How do you know if you've found the one?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them, but it was too late now -- they were out there falling on the air between them like the drips of snow from the pine trees.

Without missing a beat, Rose grinned at him. "Whenever you are with them, you can hear the eternal strains of '500 Miles' sung by a thousand invisible choirs."

John shook his head, wondering how he had ever mistaken her sense of humor to be biting, but it still didn't answer the question he really wanted to know. "Is that what you hear when you're with Jack?"

Rose looked away, wrapping her arms around herself as if she had caught a sudden chill. "They polled ten thousand women in last year's November Issue of Masculinity Today and nine thousand, six hundred of them said they would rather be with Jack Harkness than with their current significant other."

She let go of herself and swung her arms free, taking in deep breaths of air before going on, "Statistically that includes at least a couple thousand or more that wouldn't classify themselves as even interested in men. If Jack Harkness is interested in you, he's the one. It's kind of a point of fact."

John nodded even as he felt his heart fall further with each word out of her mouth. "If you can't be happy with him, you can't be happy with anyone?" he guessed.

"Something like," she said softly, her eyes roving over the landscape.

Before he could think of anything else to say to further make an arse of himself, Wilf paused and looked round at them.

"Come on then," he called. "You'd think you two weren't so keen on the idea, the way you're dragging."

Neither of them responded, merely picking up their pace until they flanked the older man. He looked back and forth between them, shaking his head.

"You are sure about this, aren't you? Because you seem like the perfect couple to me."

John still couldn't find words and apparently neither could Rose, and after a moment Wilf stopped trying to make small talk and the small party made their way on in silence.

There were beginning to be others on the street now, children racing about with toboggans and half done up jackets, shrieking and pelting each other with snowballs, adults hurrying from shop to home, domesticated pets sniffing the air curiously, squirrels and birds chattering excitedly about the weather -- all in all, it was a cheerful atmosphere. But for John it felt more like a funeral procession.

Logically, he knew that this was the right decision -- Rose's heart obviously belonged with Jack and he couldn't, shouldn't, stand in the way of that. It didn't keep him from having to physically restrain himself from dropping to his knees right there in the slushy streets and begging Rose to marry him instead.

The cove used to be John's favorite place to come, sheltered from view of the town by high piles of rock with a gently sloping beach and plenty of comfortable trees for climbing or reading or napping under, now he wondered if he would ever come down here again. As they came in sight of it, Wilf paused and John and Rose paused with him.

"Jack's right in there, I reckon," Wilf explained, "And it's best if we get this part done out of sight of him."

John nodded stiffly and he and Rose followed Wilf's directions until they were facing each other with Wilf standing to the side in an odd parody of a wedding ceremony.

"Do you, John Noble, take Rose Tyler to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Wilf intoned, looking at John with piercing eyes.

John avoided his gaze, focusing all of his attention on Rose's face. With his stomach twisting in knots, he bit out the words. "I do not."

Wilf nodded slowly, turning to Rose. "And do you, Rose Tyler, take John Noble to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

John wasn't certain if it was his imagination, but it seemed to take Rose a long time to finally open her mouth and say, "I do not."

"If you would both remove and return your rings as visible proof that you are not married," Wilf directed, holding out his hand to receive the gold circlets.

John looked at Rose, all of the things he wanted to say but couldn't screaming around his brain. It almost looked as if she, too, was going through some sort of internal struggle. At last they both gave a small nod and removed their rings together, dropping them in Wilf's outstretched palm.

"Alright then," Wilf finished. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you not married and no longer husband and wife."

He nodded his head, looked between their faces with a sad expression, and then turned to walk into the cove, his shoulders bowed a little. Just as he got to the entrance, he turned back and with a glance at the sky, looked at Rose meaningfully.

"Follow soon, the sun is almost set." And then he disappeared around the rocks.

John looked at Rose, forcing a smile on his face. "Good thing there are no pets or property involved. Bit awkward dividing all of that, you know. Would probably have to get lawyers and settlements and visitation rights and all. Messy business, divorce -- at least, we got it over with sooner rather than later."

Rose didn't return his smile, her eyes searching his for a long moment and her mouth opening and shutting several times. At length she shook her head as if trying to clear it. "If I didn't feel like I'd gotten transported to the setting of my show, I'd..."

With another shake of her head, Rose turned to follow Wilf.

Watching her walk away, John felt as if his heart was going with her and he could no longer breathe without it. For the second time in ten minutes he spoke without thinking.

"Rose, wait!"

She turned back, looking at him expectantly.

"Listen, if things don't work out with Jack, I mean, he's practically perfect in every way so it seems unlikely. But being around him doesn't seem to inspire the muse so maybe you aren't one of the ten thousand. That isn't so far-fetched, is it? Maybe you could not marry him, maybe you could stay here. With me?" He couldn't control his words, they were tumbling out of his mouth faster than he could keep track of. 

"I mean, I know it isn't much here, but we don't have to stay. We could travel. Anywhere in the world. Name the place and we'll be off."

Rose had started walking towards him somewhere during his second sentence and now stopped directly in front of him. She stared up at him, her eyes pained, searching his eyes as if looking for something. Finally she went up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his cheek, lingering there for longer than she needed to before moving down and back a step.

"Right, this is where you tell me that I'm a Lonely Angel and it's better for all of us that way?" he guessed, his voice choking.

"John," she began, but before she could continue there was the sound of voices from behind them.

The two of them turned only to see a crowd of reporters making their way hastily in their direction. John made up his mind in an instant.

"Go," he said, giving her shoulder a little nudge. She hesitated, still staring at him and he forced a smile. "Go. I've got this."

With a last lingering look, Rose turned and walked swiftly through the entrance to the cove and disappeared. Taking a steadying breath, John turned back towards the reporters.

"Hey," he called, starting towards them. "Jack's not here. They're getting married at the drycleaners. Local tradition, I'll tell you about it on the way. But we've got to hurry, ceremony's about to start. This way."

The reporters listened to him, following him back up the street the way they had come, chattering excitedly together. This left John free to brood on his thoughts, each step feeling like it was leaden. The beauty of the sun as it set in the west, casting the town in a fiery glow, meant nothing to him so lost was he to the pain of losing Rose to another man.

He knew it was possibly a little ridiculous to be so hung up on her when he'd really only met her that morning, but she had filled a place in his heart that he hadn't realized had been so empty. She was capable of meeting him on every level, challenging him and making him laugh. It was the torture of having known that and then having it ripped it away that he wasn't sure he could stand. How was he supposed to go on living and loving with the other part of his heart residing permanently outside of his body.

As he led the reporters around the corner to the drycleaners, he caught sight of Donna sitting on a bench a few shops down. She looked up at his approach, silently asking him how things had gone. Unable to speak (and unwilling to do so with the reporters still hot on his heels), John shook his head sadly. Donna's face fell and she walked to meet him, holding out her arms and wrapping her little brother in them for a long moment.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Thanks for all the love & support. <3

John heaved a sigh as he finished shoving the last of his belongings into his battered blue suitcase. It had been a year and four months since the freak snowstorm of August and the wedding of Jack Harkness and Rose Tyler and a lot had happened since then. The money he and Donna had received from their part in the festivities had funded a trip around the world.

They had made a stop in every continent, from the barren wastelands of Siberia to the diamond mines in South Africa, from the ruins of Pompeii to the Library of Congress. They sampled the local cuisine, took pictures like regular tourists and indulged Donna's collection of hats on more than one occasion. It had been a wonderful time of sibling bonding and the pictures from the trip spoke to the fact that it had been a time of laughter and fun, as well as deep chats and lending a hand to those they could.

News of Jack and Rose had hit them from time to time, but John did his best to ignore it, changing the channel or setting down the newspaper or magazine hurriedly. He didn't want to see pictures of their destination honeymoon or see the photos of the happy couple. A few times it had seemed like Donna had wanted to challenge him (to perhaps suggest he stop running), but one glance at the dark look in his eye and she'd merely pat his shoulder and they'd be off to the next thing.

At the end of the year, Donna had made up her mind of what she wanted -- a cottage just outside of London with Shaun Temple (one of Jack's PR lackeys of all people). She had no further interest in running the TARDIS and quite frankly, neither did John. Gallifrey Falls had been revived since then, renewed for a season two and then three consistently nabbing the highest ratings and the subsequent fame had brought a lot of new blood to their town.

Gallifrey could no longer be called tiny or quaint, instead it practically overflowed with newcomers -- some were vacationers up to tour the set or spend their summer vacation at the beach, but more and more came to settle in and put down roots, determined to call Gallifrey their home. It was wonderful to see, but to John it held too many painful memories.

When an offer to sell TARDIS came through, John jumped at the chance. Most of the house was packed up and there were boxes piled here and there waiting for the moving company that would be arriving in the morning. All of it was going to Donna -- John was planning to hit the open road again. He was particularly curious about a town called Mars he and Donna had briefly heard about in their travels and that was his next plan.

With a sigh, John picked up his suitcases and shouldered his pack, ready to be on with the next phase of his life. He walked slowly down to the bus stop, smiling and waving at everyone he knew. Wilf was wearing reindeer antlers and stubbornly putting up Christmas decorations, refusing all offers of help. Gwen and Rhys were involved in an intense snowball fight, but paused to wave at John, their faces alight with joy. Davros glowered at John from his front porch, his daleks polished and gleaming despite the recent snowfall. Each face was dear to John and he knew he would miss them all.

When he finally reached the gravel pull-off where the bus would collect him, John looked back at the town one last time -- the Christmas wreaths and trees and lights waving and winking at him from under the curtain of snow, the squat houses against the backdrop of stormy sea and even stormier clouds. It looked like they were due for another snowfall and a bad one by the looks of it.

John sat down on one of his suitcases to wait, closing his eyes and letting his mind drift back to the last conversation he'd had with Donna only the day before. They'd been on the phone, chatting about last minute details when Donna had brought up the one thing they never talked about.

_"John, did you catch last night's episode of Gallifrey Falls?" Donna had been oddly hesitant, her usual brusk manner softened._

_"Donna," John growled. He wasn't interested in talking about anything that had anything to do with Rose Ty-Harkness._

_"All I'm saying is that it's worth checking out. There's a new entity on the show that you might be interested in. And the episode was dedicated to her husband." Donna didn't need to clarify which "her" that was._

John had hung up shortly thereafter, claiming he still had a lot of packing to do. In reality he had poured himself glass after glass of whiskey before shedding a few silent tears over all of the things he had left unsaid and falling asleep on the kitchen floor.

He didn't want to think about Rose or Jack or Gallifrey Falls or the fact that all of the women that had tried to catch his eye on their vacation had spectacularly failed. The only woman he cared about had blonde hair and whiskey eyes and challenged him and, for a brief moment he was certain, had loved him. However all that was passed now and he had to focus on his future -- whatever that may look like.

"So you're really leaving then?" Wilf's voice sounded behind him, causing John to upset the suitcase he was sitting on.

"Erm, yeah, yes. Yes, sir." John nodded several times and picked himself up from the gravel and snow mix which was doing bad things to the seat of his pants.

"Last night's episode of Gallifrey Falls..." Wilf began, but John cut him off.

"About time I went, you know! Think I'll go to Mars first! Not the planet of course, though maybe someday if interplanetary travel gets a boost. You should come along. Get out of the town and see the world. The universe, even! Imagine that!" He knew his voice was growing high-pitched, but he couldn't stop the flow of words and risk Wilf bringing up Rose. "Time travel! I think it's possible, don't you? Anywhere in time and space. Going a thousand years in the future, a hundred years back? All the way to the end of the universe? Can you go there, do you think? Imagine other universes. Ooooh, parallel universes - those sound dangerous...."

"John," Wilf interrupted, his voice gentle but brooking no argument. "Remember what I said about time?"

"About how there's plenty of it?" John guessed, thinking back to the awkward conversation squished next to Rose on Wilf's old couch.

"As long as you don't waste it," Wilf said fiercely. "Never forget. As long as you don't waste it!"

"Right," John sighed. "I don't know about that part, Wilf."

"It's true, my boy. I could tell you stories, oh so many stories of wasted time and lost love and broken hearts, but I suspect you've got stories that could curdle my blood in return." Wilf regarded John with a wise expression. "Just remember the world has plenty of time _provided_ you don't waste it."

Wilf nodded solemnly at him and John nodded back. It seemed like the sort of moment where one ought to give a toast or take a moment of silence, but then the moment passed and Wilf rubbed his hands together and slipped his reindeer antlers back on his head.

"And one more thing," he said, his piercing eyes skewering John. "Never let anyone tell you not to be silly. Especially at Christmas."

Wilf pulled John into a great hug and then turned and headed back towards town, loudly whistling a holiday tune. John couldn't help smiling as he watched him go. Perhaps things weren't as bleak as he had thought.

Before he could give more thought to it, the bus arrived in a great belch of exhaust and splattering of sludge on the cuffs of John's pants. The next few moments were a flurry of shoving luggage in the undercarriage and handing off his ticket to the driver and trying to shove his way past the other passengers who all seemed quite put out at stopping in such a historic and important place such as Gallifrey.

John had just settled into his seat when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, his jaw dropped as he spotted Rose running down the street towards the bus, waving her arms and shouting something while Wilf could be seen making shooing motions from the top of the hill.

He stared in shock as she dashed towards the bus, his eyes seeming to meet hers through the glass just as the driver shifted into gear and with another large belch of exhaust the bus lurched onto the road.

"Wait!" John let out a panicked shout, Wilf's words about wasted time echoing in his ears.

"What now?!" The bus driver jammed his foot on the brake and glared at John.

"I need, I need to get off," John panted, ducking elbows and murderous glances. "There's something I need to, someone I need to...I need to go!"

"Heaven help me if I ever stop in this godforsaken town again," the driver muttered, easing the bus into reverse and haphazardly backing into the turn off. "And if I get stuck in the mud guess who's paying for it, sonny!"

"Me! Right. Yes. Luggage?" John could hardly speak the words, so intent was he on exiting the bus.

The driver clambered down the steps and removed John's luggage with much colorful language and old curses against every part of John's anatomy, offspring, and future well being which John tuned out because Rose had skidded to a halt and was way too far away.

Finally the driver reentered his bus and the contraption left, smoking and stuttering away, and left the two standing awkwardly together in silence. John was afraid to open his mouth, not certain what to say that wouldn't cause this vision to disappear.

She was the one who spoke first. "Hullo."

"Hullo," he returned. That was safe. What else. "What are you doing here?"

"I was trying to get your attention in other ways, you know. Phone, email, text message, Facebook, but you have been a bit hard to get a hold of," she told him.

"I've been away," he said, gesturing behind him to encompass the world. "Spotty cell service."

"Yeah, yeah I heard." She nodded and then nodded towards the departed bus. "And you're leaving again? Did you not watch the latest season?"

He jerked his head. "Erm, not so much, not really, uh, no."

"Oh," she nodded several times. "Oh, this would have been, you really should have watched it." She looked off into the distance and then back at him. "Did you see last night's episode? Did you see the dedication at least?"

He let out an unamused huff. "Heard it was dedicated to Jack."

"No!" Rose exclaimed, shaking her head. "No, it wasn't. You really didn't watch it, did you?"

"Sorry, I..." John looked away.

"Listen," Rose said, starting speaking slowly. "The only person I married was you. I, Jack and I, we let the press think we were married. It threw Cassandra off the trail enough to make a clean getaway."

"Oh." John stared at her, seeing the evidence of truth written on every line of her face. "Oh! You're not married."

"I can't believe you didn't watch the show," Rose said when it became apparent that he wasn't going to say anything else.

"Well, I, I couldn't really bring myself to watch it. I, it was too painful really." John rubbed the back of his neck.

"I hope you will someday. Because there's a new character in there that I think you might enjoy. It's a Weeping Angel who believes that no one can love him because of his...personality quirks. But he meets someone and he falls in love and, more importantly, they fall in love with him, and they find a way to be together despite everything." It was Rose's turn to look away, embarrassed. "It's not a very good plot, but last night was the finale of that plot and I wanted you to know I wrote it for a reason."

"And Jack?" John had to cover his bases, had to know that this was a thing that could possibly be.

"Actually Jack and Cassandra are a thing now. Also him and Ianto. Also perhaps him and and Ianto and Cassandra, but that's neither here nor there," Rose told him, laughing a little.

"And you're back in Gallifrey now because..." John questioned.

"Oh, I heard the men from this town were particularly handsome and quite the catch," Rose said, moving closer. "And so I thought I'd come on a man-stealing mission. I'm open to seeing the sights of course, heard this is quite the tourist town, but," she stood right in front of him, so close he could feel her body heat, "primarily I'm on a man stealing mission."

John laughed, bending down to meet her lips halfway. It was heaven and ecstasy and everything good and right and wonderful in the world all mixed up together. It was him and Rose and they were finally together. It wasn't until they parted to breathe that they realized it was snowing. They both burst into laughter at once and then John grabbed Rose's hand.

"Run?" he asked.

"Together," she agreed.


End file.
